


Break of Dawn

by CatarinaPendejo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Established Relationship, I'm so sorry, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Praise Kink, Social Anxiety, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unreliable Narrator, intended to be a oneshot now its a monster, rating should be cheddar for how cheesy this thing is, starts out angsty but morphs into romcom slice of life??, there's also some sporadic shameless smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatarinaPendejo/pseuds/CatarinaPendejo
Summary: A long and winding tale chronicling Yuuri's attempts to break through his shell and grow some confidence after the GPF. It's just hard to manage when he's being drowned in Viktor's intense affections all the time.Or: In which Yuuri is flabbergasted, Viktor is unbelievably spoiled and clingy, Yuri is pissed at everything, Yakov is completely over it, and it's only been less than a month since the Grand Prix Final.





	1. Break of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this series is just so... amazing. What a time to be alive. 
> 
> Edit: 2/7: I would like to add that when I first got into YOI I honestly thought it was Viktor. I recognize the official spelling is Victor but at this point it's too late to change it for a 50k+ fic. I know some people are very sensitive to how the names are spelled so I hope it doesn't take away from this fic very much if at all. If it does, I sincerely apologize. My family is Slavic and tends to use a lot of "k"s in our names so I didn't even think twice. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri fears winning silver will create a chasm in his relationship with Viktor, convinced he's disappointed them both. Viktor's reaction is drastically different from what Yuuri imagines, however.

_“After the Final, let’s end this.” Yuuri had said through a sad half-smile._  
  
Viktor dropped his towel. Wide eyes bore into Yuuri’s own, trying to find something in them, but Yuuri could not hold that gaze. He looked away, feeling his nerves working up. This was a bad idea. He thought he had convinced himself that this was the best thing for both of them, but with Viktor looking at him like that….  
  
But then, quietly, “Yuuri…. You know that I can never leave you.”  
  
Yuuri closed his eyes, willing away the painful feeling in his heart.  
  
For the first time in weeks, they slept separately that night.  
  
\--------------  
  
Yuuri didn’t win gold. His free skate was marvelous, yes, but it wasn’t enough. After all, hadn’t he been alternating between two extremes the whole season? From flubbing the easy parts to nailing the most difficult? Or was it vice-versa….? He was too tired to remember.  
  
Is this what hard work ultimately paid off as? He had remembered Viktor’s aura after the short program, and how his face had looked so wistful and focused as he watched the other skaters compete with their all. Did he ever look at Yuuri like that...? Why couldn’t Yuuri remember? Hadn’t they been together for almost half a year now?  
  
Standing on the podium, with the silver medal in his hand, wasn’t that what all this hard work had been for? This was a magnificent jump from last place last year, and he had such an amazing growth in his character and his talent. He had stepped out of boundaries his mind had unconsciously limited and alienated him in. He had made friendly rivals out of people he never thought he would stand on ice with again, and they actually _acknowledged_ him.  
  
So why was he avoiding the banquet?  
  
When he had stepped off the podium, feeling like a newborn fawn learning to walk, it was crushing—Viktor’s love. His aquamarine eyes were sparkling, his lashes long and illuminated in the light, he smelled of that perfect brand of cologne he loved to wear and it permeated all of Yuuri’s senses when his face was smashed into the front of Viktor’s coat. Leather gloves gripped the back of his attire, and he felt the distinct feeling of Viktor’s lips in his hair as his coach… friend, his lover, whispered in a quivering exhale, “ _Oh_ , my Yuuri”.  
  
It didn’t take all of 30 seconds of media bombardment and Viktor looking away momentarily for Yuuri to bolt. It was too much. This was all _too much._  
  
First, he went to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face. He scrubbed at his eyes and willed away the tears. _He was NOT doing this right now. Not here._  
  
But when he looked into the mirror and saw that sleepless face with those hooded red-lined eyes and a pale, colorless expression, he knew he could not lose it this time. He was spiraling into a complete and utter panic attack, probably worse than the one he had last year… and he needed to get somewhere private and quiet so he could STOP this—this whatever it was, that was trying to take him over.  
  
And right now, that wasn’t an option.

When he had returned from the bathroom, only meagerly satisfied with trying to vamp himself up to endure the next few hours, Viktor had looked at him questionably and it was _suffocating_. Viktor was not a man of intense contemplation and he was not a man who was able to identify with Yuuri’s chaotic inner turmoil. Yuuri was sure that the most self-induced stress Viktor felt was when he had separation anxiety from Makkachin. How could a man like Viktor, standing at the top of the world with fans who adored him, surrounded by admiration and love and confidence, ever be able to relate to Katsuki Yuuri, a second-rate, socially awkward, self-loathing mess of nerves?  
  
Yuuri knew in his heart that it would hurt Viktor to hear Yuuri refer to himself in this way. Really, what was up with this sudden intense wave of self-loathing? _Pull yourself together, Katsuki Yuuri!!! You won silver!!_  
  
It was impossible.  
  
He sputtered through the interview on auto-pilot, allowing Viktor to answer for him on the more intense and prying questions. All seemed well, and he managed to smile and quip away some routine responses he was mimicking from years of watching other victors speak after the big win, namely: Viktor.  
  
At some point, Yuuri had excused himself from the festivities and his beaming coach to try and gather his thoughts. There was a fire exit that led to the end of the upscale parking deck, and Yuuri took the elevator to the top floor. There, he found peace. Looking out into the Barcelona night, there was excitement in the air. He knew that tonight was a night of celebration so… why wasn’t he feeling it?

Was he thinking of the talk he and Viktor had the night before?  
  
“Are you going to be as alluring as you were at last year’s banquet, _Yuuri?_ ” Said a husky mumble clothed in a hot exhale against his ear.    
  
“ _Vik_ — _Viktor!!”_ Yuuri yelped, slamming his elbow into the railing as he confusedly stumbled around and back. “You— What?! I mean, how did you know I was here??”  
  
“Ahahaha,” holding his hands up in mock innocence, that same heart-shaped smile that Yuuri loved made itself ever present. “How could you expect me to part from you on a night like this? We are to celebrate, my Yuuri! I just can’t be away from you right now.”  
  
He felt a flutter in his chest at the warm-hearted affection and felt a small blush rising to his cheeks. It quickly subsided, vanishing and manifesting itself as a strange burning feeling in his chest.  
  
“Did you follow me…?” Yuuri asks, his voice trailing off into a small whisper at the end.  
  
Viktor’s smile faded slowly, and he lowered his hands. They stared at one another as Viktor crossed his arms defensively against his chest, but despite it, his face showed nothing but compassion and fondness. “Sweet Yuuri,” he began. There was a pause, as though he was thinking seriously about what he was going to say. This was a first. “What is it about this night that has you so on edge?”  
  
Yuuri sputtered. He knew that he was a walking open book of despair but he had honestly been trying his best to hide it from the world, from himself, and most importantly, from his beloved Viktor.  
  
“Viktor, I just…” His voice cracked, and before he could even realize, there were tears welling into his eyes. Within seconds he was crushed into Viktor’s strong, loving embrace.  
  
“ _Yuuri,”_ Viktor croaked. “Why do you hide from me? Of course I followed you, when you look like this! I thought that perhaps I should kiss you again, but even now I am unsure if that would make you happy anymore. My darling katsudon, tell me why you are anguished. You skated so beautifully, and the world saw our love in its finest form, so what are these tears for?” Viktor pulled back, looking into Yuuri’s bewildered eyes, his gloved hands framing Yuuri’s plump cheeks. “I can’t stand to see you like this,” he whispered, his words ghosting over Yuuri’s lips.  
  
Neither say anything, and within seconds Viktor’s eyes travel from Yuuri’s own, falling to those plump lips, and then he’s leaning forward slightly, those warm hands tilting Yuuri’s face and angling it just right and their hot breath is mingling together as they too come together and—  
  
“I disappointed you tonight.” Yuuri blurts out, frantic. It’s as if the world stills around them.  
  
Viktor’s adoring gaze and loving expression has now dissolved into one of confusion, and within seconds his brow is creasing as there is a downward pull at the curve of his mouth and then in a crushing wave Yuuri realizes: Viktor is angry.  
  
…. No, that’s not right. It’s not anger, as the hands that were cupping Yuuri’s face are still and gentle. This is different, this is—  
  
“That is very annoying for you to say, Yuuri.” Comes the curt reply. Yuuri didn’t even realize his eyes were still concentrated on Viktor’s

lips until that eerily calm voice brought them reeling back into that icy blue stare.  
  
“Wha—,” Yuuri begins, but is cut off.  
  
“Why do you get to decide if I am disappointed, or annoyed, or any emotion for that matter?” Viktor asks. His voice is calm and cool, but there is a dangerous lilt in it, hidden, barely notable, but Yuuri can _feel it_ reverberating from the warmth of Viktor’s gloved hands, into his cheeks, spiraling down and into Yuuri’s own core.  
  
Yuuri is a stone statue, unable to form any coherent thoughts at this time. Yuuri has certainly pushed Viktor’s patience before, but even then Viktor had a calm, patient smile plastered on his face from years of practice. But here, now: Viktor was struggling to contain it. The only other time Viktor’s impeccable resolve had deteriorated was at the Cup of China, when he had borne witness to the demon that was Yuuri’s crippling anxiety. Since then, Yuuri felt like Viktor was walking on eggshells.  
  
“…. I believe in you, Yuuri. Why is it that you can’t believe in me?” And those words sliced through Yuuri like burning knife, first into his shoulder, through his torso and then into his heart.  
  
“Viktor, I…” Yuuri stepped backwards, backing into the railing once more, trying to put space between them as he wrenched out of the other man’s grasp. “I _do_ believe in you, but I only know what I have heard and… _everyone_ wants you to come back to the ice, Viktor!”  
  
Yuuri cursed his quivering voice. He was trying so hard to be strong, but this voice that was unlike his own was betraying him, allowing all his pent up frustrations to come surging forward with a venom he didn’t know he harbored.  
  
“They want you to come back and compete, and up until yesterday I could convince myself that _this_ is what you wanted too.” A deep sigh saturated with grief escaped him, and oh no, there was a dampness on his cheek and _was he really going to cry again now?_ “But I saw your face!” A sob rips unwillingly from his throat. “I saw your face as you watched the others compete and I realized that they are right. You do belong back on the ice! You belong to another entirely different world than the one I have somehow trapped you in and now you can’t back out because you—you, you don’t want to break me now that you know how I really am!”  
  
There it was: All of Yuuri’s intense grief and suffering rolled into one long emotional screech. All the sleepless nights after the cup of China, where he was elated at their shared kiss but terrified at the idea that Viktor had meant what he said about leaving _even a little bit_. All those times when Viktor stopped looking at Yuuri for even one second and the reality came crashing down that eventually those wandering gazes would become longer and longer until Viktor no longer looked Yuuri’s way anymore. All the thoughts that Yuuri hid when he saw the homophobic hatred from a small portion of Viktor’s fans on social media that could not believe their idol was romantically linked to a failed Japanese skater. They had said that it was just a tryst, that Viktor would get bored and leave and come back and—  
  
_Oh,_ Yuuri was sobbing. Smashing his face into his hands, Yuuri collapsed into himself and then onto his knees, kneeling before Viktor as a small, hunched, defeated man.  
  
There's the sound of something hitting the ground, and within seconds Viktor’s hands are on his shoulders, vigorously shaking him and, “What can I do to prove that I love you, Yuuri?” The man begs, brokenly.  
  
Yuuri’s hazy gaze shoots up to finally look at his lover again. And, oh, Viktor is so beautiful right now. The night air is cold and Viktor’s bright eyes are glowing, tears falling like small crystals sliding down his cheek, his usually pale complexion is rosy from the biting air and his tears. Yuuri can’t speak, not right now, not when Viktor is before him like this, bared open and vulnerable in a way that Yuuri has never imagined the composed man could be. He doesn’t even have time to think as Viktor smashes their mouths together, kissing Yuuri desperately.  
  
“I love you,” Viktor gasps between rough kisses. Yuuri can’t even return them, they are so frantic. “I love you so much. I love you so, so, _so_ much. It can only be you,” He jerks Yuuri back desperately, their faces only a few inches apart as Viktor rasps out, “I can’t ever love someone like I love you, Yuuri. _”_ Viktor continues his assault of kisses on Yuuri’s cheeks, his jaw, his ear, simultaneously rattling frantic and unintelligible Russian desperately all the while.  
  
Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with himself. At first, he feels a euphoric sense of possessiveness strike him when he realizes that _he,_ Katsuki Yuuri, has reduced Viktor Nikiforov into a sobbing, pining mess on the pavement of a Barcelona parking deck.

It lasts all of 5 seconds, then the guilt sets in. The guilt that Yuuri _has_ reduced the man he loves, and who has loved him unconditionally in return, into a sobbing, desperate mess. The man who left his friends, family, his country, his career _, his reputation_ to join Yuuri into this long and tumultuous journey that was never guaranteed to be a success. The man who embraced him lovingly before every tournament. The man who stood by him when he succeeded but even more so when he failed. The man who kissed him on national television, showing his love to the whole world even when his countrymen were outspokenly against homosexuality. The same man who promised Yuuri he would stand by him even when Yuuri attempted to put a stop to this… whatever it was before it was too late for either of them to come back from this.  
  
Yuuri has meticulously broken himself down into pieces and put himself back together so many times that alienating himself from the rest of the world had become his most deeply embedded coping mechanism. Never did he ever once think that hurting himself would hurt the man he loved most of all too.  
  
And now, Yuuri realizes. _He realizes._  
  
Viktor loves him, just as much as he loves Viktor.  
  
Only through a moment of silent contemplation does Yuuri realize Viktor has gone still, and becomes aware that his sweetheart is cradling himself into Yuuri’s chest, his silver hair tucked snugly under Yuuri’s chin and his nose buried into the cool fabric of Yuuri’s windbreaker. A small hiccup makes its way to Yuuri’s ears and suddenly, the cold fire of despair is replaced with a feeling of security, and the traumatic waves of deep anxiety have been lifted as the revelation that _Viktor loves Yuuri despite all his flaws and yes, he did still want to be with him even after this._  
  
A long breath Yuuri didn’t know he was holding is finally exhaled, and he huffs a small silent chuckle. He wraps his arms around his beloved and coos gently, “I’m sorry Viktor,” kisses his hair, “I love you too. So much more than you will ever know.”  
  
There is a small period of silence before Viktor mumbles something into Yuuri’s chest, inaudible, and Yuuri has to make an inquisitive noise because he isn’t sure what Viktor said. “I said,” Viktor huffs, “I’ve loved you since I first met you.”  
  
Yuuri smiles down at him warmly, running a hand through those silvery locks, and “—Wait, what?”  
  
Viktor buries his head back into Yuuri’s chest. “I said I loved you first! Yuuri,” and then he’s up, a hand to hold himself steady against Yuuri’s shoulder. His eyes are red-rimmed, watery, and his nose is red and Yuuri is pretty sure there’s a little snot coming out but yet he _is still just so beautiful._  
  
“Katsuki Yuuri!” A slight shake and a peering, earnest look from Viktor startles Yuuri back into reality.  
  
“ _Ha_ — _Hai?”_ Yuuri squeaks, his voice wrecked from his intense crying. “I-I mean—yes?”  
  
Viktor has that look in his eye. “I, Viktor Nikiforov, have loved you since last year’s Grand Prix banquet. I thought that this playboy had stolen my heart and that I would never be able to get it back. And then you never called me.”  
  
Yuuri was embarrassingly red. “Now wait a second, I didn’t rem—“  
  
“Silence, please!” Viktor’s warm hand covered Yuuri’s mouth, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m not done. I thought of that man who looked so defeated on the ice, but then was so alluring at the banquet, sliding against me, telling me _exactly_ what he wanted from me. And it thrilled me. I was enthralled from the start. I never stood a chance.”  
  
Yuuri was pretty sure you could fry and egg on his face, it was so hot. He grumbled something against Viktor’s hand, but it was unintelligible.  
  
“When I came to Hasetsu to train you, you were not the Katsuki Yuuri I had met at the banquet. You ran from me, buffered all my advances, and genuinely seemed to act like you did not want me around.” Yuuri attempted to argue vehemently in defense against Viktor’s hand, but Viktor quickly shushed him. “But even still, I fell for you again. I fell so deeply in love that by the time you put this ring on my finger, I was already completely yours.”  
  
Viktor marveled at Yuuri’s instant overwhelming scarlet hue that spread from his cheeks, to his ears, across his neck, and down his chest though obscured by his clothing. He allowed his hand to drop, but Yuuri said nothing, just starred at Viktor like he was hanging onto every word for his life.  
  
Viktor mustered his most determined look, and began to say what he had been holding back for too long now. “Yuuri… I want to apologize to you. What I said at the Cup of China…. I didn’t know the right way to help you at that time. I wanted to motivate you, but instead I hurt you, and I am sorry that I was not able to comfort you more last night. I have never been good with dealing with emotions, and so not only have I skirted my responsibilities as your coach in encouraging you and building you up, but I also butchered my responsibilities as your lover to let you know I am here for you. It is because of me that I have planted these seeds of doubt in you, and now you— you think that I would want to leave you because you didn’t make gold? That I can just…. Pick up where I left off and go back to skating like I haven’t been consumed entirely by you?”  
  
Yuuri could feel the tears welling up, attempting to overpower him again, but he held them back. He couldn’t say anything, so he nodded his head weakly.  
  
Viktor reached for Yuuri’s right hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing the gold band as though it would break. Yuuri thought his chest might explode, the way Viktor looked when he stared at that golden ring, as though he were enchanted. And then those adoring eyes looked into his own, and Viktor whispered, “Yuuri, were you listening to what I said last night? I mean what I said. _I can never leave you._ This is the only gold that I truly care about you having, Yuuri.”  
  
If Viktor’s earlier words had washed away Yuuri’s self-deprecating doubts and anxiety, these words opened the flood gates to all of Yuuri’s deepest and most profound fears. Viktor had gained access to all the closed doors Yuuri had nailed shut from the world and pried them open and poured his love into them. Viktor had taken Yuuri’s fragile, unsure heart and cradled it in his warm hands and mended it with his words, his loving caresses, and his promise of forever.  
  
Yuuri was pulled into Viktor once more as the Russian man slid his hand around the slight curve of Yuuri’s cheek, and held Yuuri’s hand in his other. Their eyes were locked on one another, and Viktor appreciated how absolutely wrecked his sweet Yuuri looked— hazed eyes, disheveled hair, those plump red lips just waiting to be kissed.  
  
“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, and Yuuri felt like that breath was flowing into him, giving him life again, “I love you. Please, let me take this ring,”  
  
Yuuri’s breath hitched. _Wait a second, was he really…?_  
  
Yuuri watched as Viktor took the ring from Yuuri’s right hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it tenderly. Then, through candid grace, he took Yuuri’s left hand and locked his own eyes onto those mesmerizing brown orbs. “Katsuki Yuuri,” _oh shit._ “With this ring, I want to wash away all your doubts about my love. There will be no more misunderstandings, and with this, I want you to know that I will never, ever be wrenched from your side again in this life.”  
  
_Oh god._ Yuuri was not prepared. He was not prepared for this. He just suffered through an intense and humiliating panic attack, cried and made the man he loved cry, and realized that their love was a genuine piece of his soul now and _he was not ready for this._ His breathing was coming in small pants, a rapid fire burning sensation shot through his trunk and disseminated into a numbness in his limbs. He felt hot and cold at the same time. He felt dizzy in his love for this man, and now he was really going to--- he was really going to ask Yuuri to—!  
  
“ _My Yuuri,_ ” came that sweet purr. Yuuri felt like his vision was going black; he was fading. This was just too much. “ _Solnyshko, please be my one and only. Let me love you for our whole lives. Please mar---_ ” And that was when something fell in and knocked the wind out of Viktor’s lungs. He gasped, wheezed, and pulled back when he realized his lover went limp in his arms.  
  
“Yuuri?! _Moya lyubov?!_ ”  
  
But he was out.  
  
Viktor shook him incredulously and, “Did you really just faint during my proposal????”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this even a little bit, I would be greatly honored.


	2. A Quiet Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor reflects on where he was a year ago, and sometimes Yuuri is completely oblivious to the effect he has on his poor fiancé.

Viktor had never really needed affirmation for anything. Sure, when he was younger (especially as a young child) praise certainly was appreciated. All the critique for his art was garnered from those who truly wished to help him improve, and like all children, the praise of those you admire and wish to please is a primary goal and therefore ends up being the ultimate catalyst to great improvement.

But when you win consecutively, repeatedly, eventually… you hit a wall.

Not literally, of course. Viktor can’t remember the last time he actually clumsily slammed into a rink wall while skating. But figuratively, creatively, yes, he had hit that wall so hard he felt like his teeth were rattling. Once you’ve been the best, and the second best is only just moderate competition at this point (no offense to Christophe, he is amazing but, he’s not Viktor) things start to get a little... unthrilling.

Viktor never thought himself to be arrogant. Well, maybe arrogant in his own silent obvious confidence, but he certainly didn’t like it to show glaringly and he certainly never let those crude thoughts escape his mouth. Stomping around in a foul mood trying to act like the walking definition of an alpha male was for immodest young fools like Yuri. Viktor had risen far above that a long time ago, but because he didn’t act arrogant and bored didn’t mean he was strictly impervious to their dismaying effects. 

And that is precisely why after his fifth consecutive World Championship, Viktor Nikiforov was in silent agony. He was just so…. lost, lost in what he wanted to do after this. Lost in his creativity. Lost in his ability to just wake up and be filled with some insanely complicated programs that required peak physical condition to pull off. Lost in the quest to continue surprising the masses. How can you surprise them, when you can’t even surprise yourself anymore?

27 years in the average human life is just the start for some. But for Viktor, at the top of the competitive skating world at the age of 16, 27 was another year towards inevitable defeat. Viktor could defeat others in skill, he could outwit most others, he could even charm almost any fool in his way, but there was nothing that Viktor could do to defeat time.

Regardless, his physical condition at the age of 27 was still outstanding, no longer impeccable, but outstanding. He could still do the jumps; he could still do the routines, and still had most of his stamina. At night, however, his joints killed him, especially when it rained. Sometimes he would wake in the dead of the night with a dull ache in his limbs that hurt his pride moreso than physically. He had been so lucky to escape the deft grip of a traumatic injury, and Viktor knew much more than anyone else that if he did not slow down and accept that he was coming towards the end of his intensive competitive regimes, he would suffer an injury he may not be able to come back from.

And what could be worse than never being able to skate again?

Thoughts of retirement were not foreign to him. He had thought of them often enough, and the idea of retiring from competitive skating was not as terrifying to him as it had been in the past. After all, he was still beautiful, he could very easily model after this. He could act, probably, if he really wanted to take that route. He had done a few commercials in the past for some American companies, oh, and he had been the visual for the Olympics more than once.

With outstanding skills, a great personality, an amazing physique, and a naturally charming aura that drew people to him: Viktor had no shortage of opportunities, or of lovers.

And gender had never been a barrier. Truly, Viktor thought himself a victor, for having no arbitrary boundaries allowed him to have a taste of all kinds of beautiful souls. To him, the bedroom was a competitive place, and like in the ice, he felt he was expected to show his utmost skill. It had led to a lot of hot passionate nights and a lot of burning-hot romances, but when love is a competition, eventually the raging fire burns itself down into smoldering tinder. Oh, and there can only be one winner.

And honestly, in one of the worst parts of contemplating his oncoming existential crisis, Viktor wasn’t sure if he had ever really, truly, been in love with anything other than the ice.

And then he met Katsuki Yuuri.

A silent torpedo that struck him right in the gut at the middle of last year’s Grand Prix Banquet. He had… never been so immediately enamored before. Usually he was the one seducing those he wanted and had them writhing in his grasp all night before he bid them adieu in the morning. It was just the way it was meant to be. At some point those in the athletic world, entertainment business, and high fashion circles acknowledged that Viktor was focused on his career and not his romantic life. He had always been in the tabloids for something or another; it was just part of being an extravagant and dramatic individual who did bizarre things on a whim.

But Katsuki Yuuri did not dance with Viktor as though he were that notorious burning ember that would smolder out before dawn. He danced with Viktor like he had waited his whole life to hold him in his arms. His big, brown doe eyes and chubby, red cheeks were alight with a want in them that wrapped Viktor into a tight and suffocating hold. His warm hands and burning body pressed Viktor backwards and forward, sideways, and molded him like he was a piece of putty for only his taking. For the first time, Viktor was completely and utterly overtaken by another person. Even Christophe seemed taken with the young Japanese skater.

And then, Yuuri had melted into him at the end of the dance-off, wiggling his body against him in an obnoxious and hysterical display of drunken bliss. He invited him to Yuuri’s home back in Japan in slurred and garbled English. He asked, with raw and unbridled, drunken affection for Viktor to become his coach.

Viktor was sold.

“P-please call me,” Viktor had called out (embarrassingly desperate) to the drunken Yuuri sauntering into the night, to who knows where. Young Yuri wasn’t allowing Viktor even a step after Katsuki for fear that Viktor may not return.

In the morning, in a post-adrenaline party haze, Viktor awoke with a raw burning feeling in his stomach that he was sure could only be quenched by drowning in Katsuki Yuuri’s seductive charms once more. Viktor had always been a wanted man, but Katsuki Yuuri had held onto Viktor the previous night like he wanted to own him.

To make matters worse, Viktor felt like a lost puppy awaiting the return of his owner as he clutched his phone to his chest the next day, hoping for a text or a voicemail or a call or something from Katsuki. In his attempts to quell his longing and pining feeling, he had rewatched several videos from the tournament. He was sure he did not remember Katsuki being so daring in his skating.

He was completely right. It didn’t quite register at the party that Katsuki Yuuri had come in dead-last, and while watching his performances, Viktor was met with an obviously shaken Yuuri who displayed none of the confidence or shining brilliance he had at the after party.

After bombing the Grand Prix, and subsequently Japanese nationals, Katsuki Yuuri disappeared from the competitive skating world.

And Viktor waited for a call that never came. 

\--------------------------------------------

Almost a full-year later, Viktor is sitting on the cold pavement of a Barcelona parking deck adjacent to the stadium.

His failed attempt at an emotional marriage proposal was sinking in. Unlike in movies, thankfully, Yuuri almost immediately came back to life (albeit confused), struggling in his arms like a man on fire, and jumped up from his grasp in a staggeringly adorable fashion.

Yuuri stared at Viktor, and oh no, he knew that look--- that was Yuuri’s IGOTTAGETOUTOFHERERIGHTNOW look. Before Viktor could get a word in edge wise, Yuuri was stumbling toward the stair exit with a hasty “I’LL MEET YOU AT THE BANQUET!” without even a glance spared back at his bewildered fiancé.

And although he was 30 minutes late, Yuuri did indeed show up to the banquet. It was very tame compared to the year before. To be honest, it was all a little blurred to Viktor because he had been so distracted with his emotional roller-coaster of a night with Yuuri so far.

They had fun, they laughed, some even drank (not Yuuri), and they danced (formally). The after party was set to move on to a large, spacious and extravagant restaurant--- or was it a bar, or maybe it was a nightclub actually--- where the party could truly get going. Viktor wasn't interested in going in the first place, but then Yuuri had ever so gently laid his forehead against Viktor’s upper arm, and with wide eyes looking up to him through those dark lashes, a small hint of a blush to his cheeks, he whispered, “Viktor?”.

That was all the convincing Viktor needed.

The old Viktor would have immediately expected that as soon as the door closed to their hotel room, they would be all over one another in a blurred and frantic mess, trying to pry each other’s clothes off as soon as possible so they could melt into one for a long night of intense love-making.

But with Yuuri, it was different.

In the cab, Yuuri had intertwined their hands together, a sweet, small, innocent blush visible on his round cheeks but partially obscured by his glasses. They had disconnected to go through the lobby and up the elevator. Viktor was sure Yuuri could tell that he had a lot of nervous energy right now, which was very rare for Viktor. On the flip side, it seemed that a peace had come over Yuuri now. He looked elegant, relaxed, and the panicked look that had haunted his eyes from earlier after the tournament had now melted into an even, calm sea of tranquility. Viktor expected that it was most likely due from physical and emotional exhaustion, but he prayed that his pure and unadulterated love confession from earlier was the cause for Yuuri’s new peace.

As Viktor was hanging his coat up, Yuuri began to modestly undress. It was not as though they hadn’t seen one another naked (to be fair, Viktor was the one more often naked than not), but Viktor could tell that tonight Yuuri was being very particular with his movements.

“Yuuri,” Viktor had said, sweetly. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time they were really speaking to one another since they had separated at the parking deck. “Would you like to bathe first?”

“Oh, I already bathed earlier. I, uhm, after the…. Y’know,” Yuuri murmured, not looking at Viktor directly. “I mean, I wanted to be clean for the banquet so I went ahead and washed up. I was really sweaty from the tournament.” Oh, that’s right. Duh.

“A-ah, okay!” Viktor twittered in an unusually high octave. He snapped his mouth shut, and it wasn’t unnoticed by Yuuri, who turned his full attention to his flustered mentor. What was that?? Viktor cried in his head.

But Yuuri only had to give Viktor a hint of his sweet, heart-melting smile, and immediately any anxiety Viktor felt melted away until he was returning his own embarrassing heart-shaped smile in return.

“Well, since the bath is free,” Yuuri continued, “I’ll go ahead and dress down and I think I may lay down as well…. I am a little tired, if you want to go ahead and bathe.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Oh. Of course. Viktor smiled goofily, stepping across the short distance between them in a swift motion. Yuuri’s face flooded with warm color as he realized Viktor was almost flush against him, and he looked up at him with that charming innocence that Viktor submitted to every. single. time. “Yuuri,” he began. “I am so proud of you. I want you to know that. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, both on and off the ice. I am a blessed man, so lucky to stand beside you through this journey, beside you tonight at the podium and here, right now.”

The most beautiful, boisterous giggle escaped Yuuri as a wide and beaming smile replaced his embarrassed, fragile one. “Thank you, Viktor! There is no way I could have ever done this without you…. So thank you. Thank you for standing by me.” It seemed as though Yuuri wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth, shook his head ever so slightly, and reached forward to bring Viktor into his embrace.

And Viktor immediately leaned into it. Yuuri’s arms circled around his waist as he laid his head on Viktor’s chest, while Viktor’s own arms circled around Yuuri’s torso so he could lay his cheek against Yuuri’s thick hair, breathing him in. No matter how many times Yuuri would surprise him, intrigue him, or ruin him, nothing invigorated Viktor more than being in Yuuri’s sweet embrace.

They stayed like that for several moments. The quiet of the hotel gave way to the peaceful Barcelona night, and the city lights shown through the shades in an illuminating ray that spread through their hotel room. A small lamp in the corner was turned on, and the room was a pleasantly warm temperature. There was no other noise save the quiet breathing of two lovers locked in a tender embrace. This must be what heaven feels like, Viktor hummed quietly to himself.

Yuuri pulled away sheepishly after a few moments, his glasses fallen to the bridge of his nose, before he whispered, “I’ll wait for you, until you get out of the shower.”

WHAM, right in the feelings, and another more discernible place. Viktor felt like Yuuri had gut-punched his heart (and groin). It took every ounce of strength in him to not wheeze out like an old man. Instead, he opted to gracefully stare at Yuuri with wide eyes and a slightly unhinged jaw. One of his more attractive looks, he was sure.

Yuuri gave Viktor a shy smile, and with a small and sweet kiss to his lips, separated them with a weak pat to Viktor’s chest. With that, he turned and began to discard of his clothes, getting ready to settle into the two twin beds pushed together.

Viktor somehow made it to the shower on autopilot. Here, now, in this hotel room, he felt like one of the most pivotal parts of his life was heading toward him like a bullet train. He was mulling over the fact that he was completely unprepared for this (no, really, he didn’t pack anything of that nature because he never anticipated that tonight, of all nights, he would finally have all his feverish desires coming to life), but they could still discover and revel in each other’s bodies without going “all the way”--- clink.

As Viktor slipped his dress shirt and trousers off, the clinging of a metal object hitting the bathroom tile and skidding away rang quietly throughout air. He looked down, confused at first, but coming to the realization that it was other half to the golden ring he wore on his right ring-finger. Oh.

That’s right! He had held that ring in his hand, prepared to place it on Yuuri’s own left ring finger, this time an actual engagement in his mind as he was in the middle of promising the love of his life the rest of his forever. Apparently Viktor had not thought it through entirely because Yuuri was overwhelmed by Viktor’s overpouring love, overheated, and subsequently lost consciousness.

But now, that same sweet, innocent man who could not sit through Viktor’s confession of his undying love was waiting for him in bed.

Good God, how much luckier could a man get.

He placed the ring lovingly on the counter, jumping into the shower for a thorough wash-up so that he may look and smell the best for his darling. He already had it planned out, working through it while he scrubbed his hair (not too hard as to promote any unnecessary hair loss). He would put on his bathrobe, spray on just a tinge of cologne as to not overpower Yuuri, put the ring in his robe pocket and after their intense communion, he would look into those chocolate brown eyes and take the ring and---

Oh, he was blushing like a virgin school girl. He placed his hands on his warm cheeks and shook his head vigorously.

He finished drying up, and after preening in the mirror to a level he felt was acceptable to be in his perfect Yuuri’s ethereal presence, slipped quietly out of the bathroom and into the night with the ring in his pocket.

Except it was dark.

Well, of course. Yuuri was easily embarrassed, so of course he would want to keep it quiet and dark. Viktor only allowed the smallest twinge of disappointment to tweak inside before he squashed it with his unabashed affection for Yuuri’s unfounded insecurities. If it were up to Viktor, he would lay both of them bare, no covers or sheets in the way, with the brightest lights on so that he could watch every move and every breath Yuuri took under him as he was lost in the pleasure of their bodies twisting and rocking together perfectly. But tonight was Yuuri’s night, and he would wear a blindfold if Yuuri asked it of him. Well, he would also wear some handcuffs too, if that’s what Yuuri wanted…

Shaking his perverted thoughts from his head, Viktor sauntered over to the bed and gently felt around until he lightly touched the bundled form of Yuuri under the sheets. He allowed his hand to run affectionately over what he thought was the expanse of Yuuri’s back, up along his arm, and then sweetly down the curve of his side.

“Mmm,” Yuuri breathed, striking a fiery chord in Viktor’s heart. “Are you done? Come in,” and before Viktor could protest, Yuuri had scooted toward the middle of the conjoined beds and pulled Viktor in.

Viktor was enveloped immediately by the warmth of Yuuri’s form, nestling into the spot where Yuuri had been bundled, he was wrapped in the comforting expanse of their shared bed and sheets. Yuuri adjusted slightly, allowing Viktor to settle on his back, before curling into Viktor’s side and resting his head on Viktor’s chest. Whether it was because he was slowly coming to terms with their affection for one another, or whether it was due to exhaustion was unsure, but Yuuri buried himself into Viktor and inhaled deeply, murmuring, “God, you smell so good.”

Viktor was still slightly damp from the shower, but inside he was a raging man on fire. How did this wonderful man manage to reduce him to such a mess with so little words and actions? Viktor felt like Yuuri could have told him he smelled as good as a pork cutlet bowl and it still would have set him alight with desire.

And then, after another breath, Yuuri whispers, “I’m so glad I waited to sleep until you came in. I really wanted to cuddle with you tonight.”

“Yes, my katsudon,” Viktor is mumbling into Yuuri’s hair heatedly, grasping Yuuri’s wrist before caressing up his arm. “I too have longed to hold you, my sweetheart, my Yuu—” Wait a minute. Viktor stops. “Cuddle?”

“Mmmhmm,” Yuuri purrs sleepily. He nestles further into Viktor’s side, a content cat, before he finally readjusts and, “I love you, Viktor.” Like a perfectly scripted comedy routine, he’s out.

Viktor is left with a blazing fire in the pit of his stomach and a very uncomfortable situation between his legs.

And Yuuri’s ring is still in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Viktor. Better luck next time!


	3. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotional night together, Yuuri awakens to discover his beloved ring is missing. Viktor faces serious concerns about the immediate future, and starts planning (at least to the best of his ability) for what their shared future might hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DON'T read this summary or this chapter if you are avoiding Yuuri on Ice episode 12/finale SPOILERS! 
> 
> \-----
> 
> I wanted to wait to publish this chapter until I saw the route episode 12 was ending the series on.
> 
> Wow, so my "Yuuri isn't going to get gold" theory actually worked, but I did NOT anticipate Viktor wanting to come back to the ice that easily. I am floored by the beauty of this series, and although they rushed the entire last episode due to time constraints, I still loved every second of it. It is a wonderful time to be alive, and I look so forward to seeing the growth of all these wonderful characters in season 2 (assuming see you next level means that). 
> 
> I had to tweak some things in the story line for this chapter so if you find some inconsistencies with the previous chapters please forgive me. OTL

It's the break of dawn.  
  
Barcelona’s morning light is fluttering in through the drapes and filtering the room in a beautiful glow of pastel colors. Yuuri opens his eyes from under the warm cocoon of blankets around him, and smiles at the feeling of his lover’s tangled limbs and the press of his warm nose into his chest. Somehow, during the night, Viktor had managed to wiggle his way down until his face was squished flat into Yuuri’s chest, his nose pressed against Yuuri’s sternum, his upper body obscured by blankets and Yuuri’s arms so that only the top of his silky silver hair is visible. The fine locks tickle the bottom of Yuuri’s chin.  
  
Yuuri is basking in the amazing peace of the morning. He admires the glow of yellow, orange and pink prisms in the light, the silkiness of the sheets, the way the light shines off of Viktor’s fine hair in a silvery cascade. His left arm is wrapped around Viktor’s torso, and his right arm is fit snugly between the space of Viktor’s head and his left shoulder, outstretched toward the side of the bed like he’s trying to grasp the sunlight into the palm of his hand.  
  
Yuuri smiles a sleepy, fond smile; his eyes automatically sweep to see the blurry shine of the golden ring on his right hand, flickering brightly in this ethereal light.  
  
Except it doesn’t. Because it’s not there.  
  
Yuuri blinks sleepily, confusedly, a few times before his eyes widen in horror and his mind begins to process exactly what is occurring. His ring isn’t there. On his finger. The ring Viktor placed on Yuuri’s finger in the cathedral two nights ago.  
  
His ring isn’t there.  
  
_His ring isn’t there._  
  
“OH GOD,” Yuuri cries as he sits straight up in bed, effectively pushing Viktor up and off of him. Viktor gives a startled yelp before the yank of Yuuri’s arm out from under him has him tumbling toward the edge of the bed, blankets wrapped around him like a full body restraint. Suddenly, there is no more room, and Viktor tumbles off of the side with every blanket and the top sheet as well.  
  
“OW,” comes the first squeak from the floor. Viktor isn’t quite visible, but he is audible. “WHAT THE FUCK?”  
  
But Yuuri is in his own world, kneeling in the middle of the bed with his left hand holding his right hand up to his face as though he were reading some ancient tomb. Except this time, his eyes are wide with bewilderment and there is a look of pure unadulterated horror etched into his features.  
  
“VIKTOR,” Yuuri rasps, still incredulously holding his hand inches from his face.  
  
Viktor flails in the floor for a moment, only his busy limbs combing through the air visible, until the Russian finds purchase on the side of the bed and is heaving his torso over the edge, looking at Yuuri with eyes just as wild and confused. “ _Solnyshko_??” comes another high-pitched squeak.  
  
Viktor attempts to readjust himself in the confines of all the covers so that he may actually look at Yuuri properly, but as soon as he’s trying to heave himself up to a proper sitting position Yuuri is suddenly in his face. The movement is so incredibly quick and unexpected that it sends Viktor tumbling backward, knocking his head against the panel of the window. “OWWWW!” Viktor cries in confused despair. “WHAT IS HAPPENING.”  
  
“MY RING IS MISSING, VIKTOR!” Yuuri screams unnecessarily, as though Viktor were a football field away when in reality he is 1.5 feet away, if that. Yuuri continues to croak out the remainder of his intense morning despair in rapid fire Japanese.  
  
First thing is, Viktor doesn’t understand why there is so much screaming at eight in the morning. He has never once in his entire fabulous 27 years of life on this Earth _ever_ been woken up to be a participant in an early morning screaming fest he didn’t even sign up for in the first place. The only sport he has ever seriously participated in is skating and he’s not keen on changing that. Second, Viktor is not particularly fluent in Japanese yet and sure as hell cannot understand it when Yuuri is spouting it at him one-hundred words per minute. Third, _why can’t Viktor get untangled from these damn sheets??_  
  
“Yuuri, baby, _stop_.” Viktor says, the edge in his voice harsher than he had anticipated.

Yuuri stops, tears in his eyes, still holding his hand but this time shoving it out into the air in front of Viktor’s face just in case he can’t see it clearly with his 20/20 vision a foot away. There is a look of pure heartbreak in those chocolate eyes and to make it worse, he looks absolutely _downtrodden_ at Viktor’s tone.  
  
“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor breathes, this time with forced gentleness. “English, please?”  
  
The young Japanese man hiccups and, holding the edge of a soft sob, croaks, “My ring is missing!”. Plump, round droplets of tears are spilling down his cheeks and _truth be damned, this is the THIRD time he’s seen Yuuri cry like this._ One time too many. Yuuri shakes his hand dramatically for good effect.  
  
“Yuuri, my angel,” Viktor tries to coo, but his voice betrays him with a hint of annoyance. “It’s OK, I’ve got it in my pocket.” Viktor reaches down to pull the ring from his robe until he realizes he’s actually quite naked. _That’s right_ , during the night he went to the bathroom, and hot in the sheets, he had laid the offending robe on the sink counter before slinking back into Yuuri’s sweet embrace. Viktor drifted off with the devilish anticipation of Yuuri waking to a Viktor in only his tight, black boxers.  
  
But at the moment, Yuuri doesn’t seem like he gives a fuck if Viktor had awakened with an angry chicken costume adorned instead. Only now, Viktor looks as though he’s cosplaying in an ancient Greek toga made of sheets.  
  
As Viktor finally finds the opportunity to untangle his way out of said cursed sheets, and is finally not the target of Yuuri’s unintentional physical freakout, he can’t help but notice the impatient way Yuuri is staring at him.  
  
_You love this ring more than you love me,_ Viktor thinks grumpily. Yuuri even gets up to follow him into the bathroom.  
  
Viktor grabs the robe from the sink counter and holds it up to face his beloved fiancé who is now currently standing in the bathroom doorway, watching him like a hawk.  
  
 “See?” Viktor asks as he reaches into the pocket to pull out the much coveted ring. It gleams in the dim bathroom light between Viktor’s fingers as though it’s trying to tell Yuuri how much it’s missed him too.  
  
Yuuri’s face immediately lights up and then relaxes as a visible wave of relief washes over him. Viktor resists the urge to roll his eyes at Yuuri’s behavior. _He’s_ supposed to be the dramatic one here.  
  
Viktor begins to cross the distance between them to place the ring back on Yuuri’s waiting finger in an impromptu romantic bathroom adventure, but loses purchase on the ring as it slickly slides through his fingers and clinks into the sink. The small golden ring skips around the rim of the bowl before sliding into the center and _into the drain._  
  
Viktor contemplates initiating a reality TV show documenting his every day misfortunes just as Yuuri’s distressed wail cuts like a knife into the silence of the morning.  
  
\-------------------------------

After the hotel manager visits their shared hotel room with great concern, stating, “Mr. Nikiforov, several neighboring occupants have reported horrific screaming coming from this room this morning”, Viktor attempts to explain exactly what has transpired in the past 30 minutes since he was so rudely awakened. He realizes half-way through the explanation that the manager’s face is so red because he’s still in his boxers and nothing else.  
  
Yuuri has been sitting in the middle of the bed, seppuku style, brooding silently. Viktor has been highly impressed with Yuuri’s dramatic performance this morning, he’s even considered buying a small, fake plastic Oscar to give Yuuri instead of another ring. He had almost asked Yuuri if he’d thought of acting in any Korean dramas, but stopped short when a bone-chilling glare was thrown his way for speaking.  
  
_I could call it “Viktor and Friends”_ , Viktor thinks to himself. _Wait, no, “Viktor and Makkachin: A Force to be Reckoned With!” No, that sounds more like a movie._  
  
15 minutes after that, Viktor is actually dressed and is trying to order some room service without any helpful input from Yuuri, when the hotel maintenance shows up to attempt to use a drain snake to retrieve the ring. It fails in its mission to find the ring, but does manage to remove a clump of hair that was causing the sink to drain sluggishly. The maintenance employee claims it as a victory, but the begrudging look on Yuuri’s face makes Viktor think otherwise.  
  
“So where is my ring, then?” Yuuri asks in an uncharacteristically huffy voice. “Shouldn’t it have come with that huge ball of hair?”  
  
“No sé,” The maintenance worker says as he shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry. I will talk with my coworkers. Maybe we can come up with a different plan.”  
  
Yuuri is _not happy_ , but is slightly relieved to find that there may still yet be a chance. __  
  
This is _not_ how Viktor wanted to spend the beginning of their very small, sweet vacation together. Yuuri had worked so hard to place as a medalist in the Grand Prix Final this year, and even though he was well aware that Yuuri was disappointed he didn’t win gold, he also knew how ecstatic Yuuri was to place at all now that he did not have to doubt Viktor’s love for him anymore. Even the way he seemed more comfortable sharing his emotions with Viktor since last night has drastically changed; The old Yuuri would have probably locked the door to the hotel room and refused to come out for the rest of the day, depressed and embarrassed.   
  
The other finalists had already made themselves scarce. He knew that a few were staying behind in Barcelona for a couple of nights, some had flights out this morning, and he was sure Yuri and Yakov were already in transit back to Russia with the Russian nationals in mind.  
  
But Viktor wanted to surprise Yuuri with a romantic day trip to Paris sometime in the oncoming days, and perhaps beyond, Yuuri’s plans for the future permitting. They hadn’t had the opportunity to truly spend time with one another apart from frequent training and Viktor was eager to show Yuuri how beautiful the world was outside of his small Japanese home-town and large, expansive arenas, even for one or two possible days.  
  
Viktor also recognized that there was the large, looming question of the future hanging in the air between them. Not their future together romantically, of course, Viktor was certain they would always be together... or at least as long as Yuuri would have him.  
  
 No, their futures together as mentor and pupil. Yuuri had seemed absolutely out of it after the winning interviews the other night and hadn’t seemed remotely phased when Viktor had been bombarded with media questions. The two most asked questions: Are you going to continue to coach and retire competitively, or are you going to come back next season? There were a few other off-hand questions about his general future, and Viktor felt pleased when one female reporter had asked about the upcoming wedding.  
  
Well, for one thing, Viktor had been absolutely confident in his decision to quit competitive skating. It seemed kind of cheap to end it this way, running from Russia to Hasetsu without an actual official public retirement from the skating world (or from Yakov) to coach Yuuri, but at the time Viktor had been so desperate to rekindle what he thought had been a passionate flame between them the year before.  
  
There had been a myriad of alternative routes he could have taken to get here, but the past was in the past and all that mattered now was the fact that he was sitting in a Barcelona hotel with a Grand Prix Final medalist who also happened to be his ridiculously attractive fiancé.  
  
God, Yuuri looked so cute in his loose t-shirt and track pants. His mulling pout was also just _so cute_. Viktor was even enthralled by the over-the-top glares Yuuri tried to throw his way periodically, his baby face features too soft to truly carry even mild annoyance well. Yuuri was not often peeved or pouty (he seemed to bee-line straight into depression), so when he was, it reminded him of Makkachin as a small puppy trying to pull at the hem of Viktor’s pants with weak growls.  
  
But Viktor had the rest of forever to muse over his darling Yuuri. He needed to focus.    
  
No, Viktor is certain of three things: (1) He loves Yuuri and wants to spend the rest of his life beside him: that was unquestionable. (2) He would happily continue to coach Yuuri until the completion of his career. And (3), depending on what Yuuri _truly_ wanted to do, Viktor would mold himself and his future plans so that they would follow any road Yuuri wanted to go down. After all, he had spent the last 27 years living and breathing only competitive ice skating, and now with a new profound appreciation for love and life burning in his lungs, he was determined to spend the rest of his days thanking Yuuri for the gift of his pure love in whatever means he could.  
  
But Yuuri was right, Viktor really did _miss skating_. He had watched the other competitors show their love on the ice, and as much as he had felt leaving for Yuuri was worth it, watching both of his sweet Yuri’s break his records instilled a horrifically intense desire for competition.  
  
A feeling he had desperately been searching for after last year’s World Championship.  
  
And if Viktor was completely honest with himself now that the emotional peak of his and Yuuri’s love had been reached last night through shared feelings…. Truth be honestly told, Viktor wanted to compete again.  
  
The possibility that this feeling would reemerge after the Grand Prix had never even crossed his mind while training Yuuri. Yuuri had told him the night before last that he wanted Viktor to return to the ice, but how would Yuuri _really_ feel about Viktor coming back? As a fan, he would be ecstatic, Viktor was sure. As a rival competitor, he’d probably be very happy but nervous, maybe even intimidated. As his trainee, Yuuri would probably immediately assume that he should definitely retire now, or find another coach to fill in Viktor's new vacant spot. Option two was not acceptable to Viktor because if it wasn’t going to be Viktor, it had to be Yakov. And considering if Viktor went back under Yakov’s wing, that would make a 15-year-old senior debut gold medalist, a 5 consecutive World Champion winner ~~who had disappeared half a season without so much as a proper goodbye and a very awkward departure at the airport~~ , and a first time Grand Prix Final medalist from Japan all under his care within the next week. Ah, that’s right, Japanese nationals and Russian nationals were actually a little under two weeks away.  
  
If Viktor was going to make a comeback for nationals (assuming they would let him), that means that he and Yuuri would have to be separated if even for a few weeks. _And the idea of that was enough to terrify Viktor straight back into retirement planning._    
  
But none of those plans could be predetermined or even remotely shaped until Yuuri answered the biggest question of all: _What does Yuuri want to do_ _now_? The most obvious and logical answer to Viktor was at least continuing on for the rest of this season. After Christmas, Yuuri would need to begin his vigorous training for the 2017 Four Continents International and more importantly, the 2017 World Figure Skating Championships.  
  
And after blowing both of those out of the water, Yuuri would earn his place to participate in the 2018 Winter Olympics.  
  
Viktor was getting goosebumps just thinking about it.  
  
The most pressing issue of all: Viktor needed them to hurry up and get married. If they were going to continue on this path, their lives would undoubtedly resume as a hectic montage of intense training and conflicting schedules, and Viktor wanted at least the holidays to truly _love_ Yuuri correctly if only for a little while. However, they were never really “officially” engaged to begin with, and they both happened to live in countries that did not support homosexual marriage.  
  
He'd have to think on that one.  
  
He had been mulling over the situation in his head whilst he feasted on the delicious Spanish breakfast room-service had brought them. Somewhere along the way Yuuri had settled into his side and was eating comfortably as well, finally snapping out of his stupor from the shocking fate of his ring, but still noticeably peeved about it.  
  
He must not be too angry because he lets Viktor feed him a little.  
  
“How is it, my delicious katsudon?” Viktor purrs as he leans into Yuuri’s warm side.  
  
“It would taste better with my ring on,” Yuuri deadpans. He is obviously attempting to keep his gaze locked on the silverware in his hands so that he doesn't have to look Viktor in the face.  
  
_Ah_ , Viktor thinks. _So it’s going to be like this today._  
  
Viktor continues on, cheery voice still in full active mode despite the heavy air between them. “After this, let’s go shopping and sight-seeing one more time to places we didn’t have a chance to go to the other night, and eat dinner by one of my favorite port-side cafes, hmm? The lights are beautiful at night, and the sea shines.”  
  
Yuuri made a noise that provided no discernible favor, opting to work on now finishing Viktor’s part of breakfast.  
  
_Once there,_ Viktor thinks, _we can decide the future for ourselves._  
  
Lacing his right (ringed) hand with Yuuri’s own left, he brings Yuuri’s knuckles to his lips and kisses every one of them tenderly. “I cannot wait, _solnyshko_.” __  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if the timeline is a little confusing. I am basically using Wikipedia and few other sources to get the timeline for upcoming events some what correct(?). Please forgive/correct me if you notice any fallacies. The YOI timeline has always been a little hazy for me to understand completely considering I have no ice skating knowledge prior to being a fan of this series.
> 
> I will attempt to get Chapter 4 in some time during the holidays. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! :-)


	4. The Moonlit Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor whisks Yuuri away for a romantic day out in Barcelona but is confronted by a certain irritated teenager and an elderly couple who just want to watch the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd again. Please forgive me if I missed anything in my read-through. I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this chapter.

Barcelona is such a large city that it doesn’t take much research to find more interesting things to do and places to go that they had missed the night before the free skate.  
  
Viktor orders 9 AM train tickets from Barcelona to Paris for the next day on his phone. The trip will take roughly 5.5 hours or so and Viktor appreciates that’s another 5 hours of his life he will get to spend next to his beloved Yuuri, so he doesn’t mind. They should get there in the early afternoon and that will give Viktor plenty of time to have a romantic night out in the city of love.  
  
He goes ahead and books a 5-star hotel that is lot more lavish than any of the hotels they’ve stayed in this year, as well as a spot at a famous restaurant that usually requires reservations at least a week in advance. Being famous has its perks, and in this case, he was able to get a booking with just his name alone.  
  
He doesn’t tell Yuuri yet because he wants to tell him tonight, hopefully following a passionate kiss by the seaside. He’s so ecstatic to spend time with Yuuri outside the rink he doesn’t even care if it’s 3 days without training. He knows that their respective national tournaments are but a fortnight away, but his love for Yuuri has encompassed him completely now. He wants to bask in their uninterrupted passion even though time is fleeting.  
  
Speaking of uninterrupted, in the middle of sight-seeing 2.0 they find themselves in the historical architectural part of Barcelona and it is beautiful. Viktor’s appreciation for its beauty is only trumped by Yuuri’s own breathtaking expression as he marvels at the wonders of the world he had yet had the pleasure to partake in.  
  
They find rest on a bench in the park to eat lunch they purchased in the market. It is cold and snowing, but the afternoon sun shines on them through the trees like a beautiful spring day. They are bundled for warmth and the cold doesn’t affect Viktor and really, the way Yuuri’s nose is cute and rosy right now makes up for the chilly atmosphere.  
  
Before they eat, Viktor convinces Yuuri to partake in a selfie that he posts to Instagram. They enjoy their meal in shared silence, basking in the comfortable familiarity of their shared company they had long ago forged.  
  
As they are near finishing, Viktor ponders how to go about their date night together.  
  
“Hey Yuuri,” Viktor begins. He waits for Yuuri to turn his full attention to him before he continues. “After this, why don’t we explore a bit more. I’m sure after a few more hours we will burn off this little meal and we can go to that port-side restaurant I mentioned earlier.”  
  
Yuuri smiles warmly, seemingly in a much better mood than early this morning. It relieves a little of Viktor’s clouded feeling of jealousy over Yuuri’s intense attachment to the golden band. Really, didn’t Yuuri know that he already had Viktor himself wrapped around his finger?  
  
“That sounds good,” Yuuri says softly, turning back to the snow-covered trees before them.  
  
As they are getting ready to leave and dispose of the remnants of lunch, there is a disgusted grunt behind them and a swift _thud_ to the back of the wooden bench. It doesn’t take much for Viktor to recognize the familiar feeling of a young Russian teenager’s disdain and swift kicks.  
  
“And here we find the pig and his old man,” Yuri seethes. They turn to find the young skater in his beloved leopard print varsity jacket, holding his phone to show Viktor his recent Instagram post on the screen. Viktor mentally slaps himself for forgetting Yuri’s investigative skills through hashtags.  
  
His Yuuri makes an uncomfortable face and Viktor squashes the annoyance bubbling in the back of his throat and instead plasters on his famous smile. “Yuri,” he says with great difficulty. “What do we owe the pleasure of your company? I thought you were on your way to Russia with Yakov and Lilia.”  
  
Yuri scrunches up his face like he is affronted by the idea of needing an escort back home, but doesn’t make a remark on it. Instead, he says, “I wanted confirm some things between you and pork bowl over there.”  
  
Viktor can see Yuuri flinch in the periphery of his vision but opts not to rebuke Yuri as he knows it won’t do any good anyway. He’s always been stubborn and brash, but why, Viktor does not know. Viktor may be forgetful but he’s sure he remembers a young Yuri with an awkward bowl-cut and rosy cheeks looking up to him with stars in his little eyes. Really, where did that cute innocence go?  
  
“Viktor, I am going to get straight to the point so I can leave you two as soon as possible: are you really not going to return to skating?” Yuri turns a venomous glare to the other Yuuri. “And YOU: are you really taking the coward’s way out and retiring?”  
  
Viktor feels an immediate sense of rare apprehension with young Yuri so insensitively and foolishly breaching a topic he had been working over in his head repeatedly, again and again the last day and half.  
  
Yuuri K. looks just as shocked as Viktor though, and his jaw opens a little as his eyes go wide. He looks even more flustered this way, and begins to stutter, “I-I don’t know. I haven’t made a decision.” He looks away, unable to hold Yuri’s scrutinizing gaze any longer.  
  
“Now wait a minute,” Viktor says, ready to start a scolding that should have been done a long time ago. Yuri’s harsh words may intimidate his Yuuri at times, but he knows those same words can light a competitive fire within the Japanese skater too. He’s let it slip too many times, and really, it’s too late to try and correct Yuri’s persistent bad attitude now, but even for the ill-tempered teenager this was going too far.  
  
“You can’t force Yuuri to make a decision right now on such a personal matter. And frankly, Yuri, it’s not really any of your business.” Viktor reprimands curtly.  
  
Yuri P. makes a surprised expression at Viktor’s uncharacteristically blunt admonition. Viktor only uses this kind of tone when giving frank criticism on the ice, and he can’t remember the last time he broke his practiced aloof public persona.  
  
“Instead,” Viktor continues, “You should be giving Yuuri lots of cooties for almost defeating you at the Grand Prix Final when this was his first time on the podium and you’ve won gold once before in Junior.” The playful tone was back in his voice this time, attempting to steer the conversation in a less confrontational direction.  
  
Yuri makes an exasperated sound and chokes out, “Cooties? Are you serious? It’s _kudos_ , you blasted idiot.”  
  
Yuuri, who was an unwilling bystander to the exchange, lets out an airy giggle despite the put-upon frown Viktor makes at the correction. It’s annoying to be corrected by a 15-year-old but Viktor notices that the charming light has returned to Yuuri’s eyes and somehow it makes all things right in the world again.  
  
“Do you plan to spend the rest of our date with us, or are you going to let us in peace?” Viktor asks, ready for the young skater to make himself scarce again.  
  
Yuri makes another disgusted noise and gives possibly one of the most dramatic eye-rolls Viktor’s ever seen. “It’s obvious that neither of you fools have made up your minds about what you want to do. I guess it doesn’t matter, because if you choose to compete I’ll win gold regardless.”  
  
At this remark, both Viktor and Yuuri’s expressions turn to steel.  
  
Yuri looks delighted that he’s broken the sickening lovey-dovey atmosphere between them. Their reactions also seem to validate something he secretly wanted desperately: for them both to return to the ice with the resolve to compete against him seriously.  
  
Viktor looks like he’s about to open his mouth to deliver Yuri a sarcastic quip but Yuri cuts him off. “—Well, I don’t think I can tolerate this mushy environment around you two anymore, so, later.” With that, he lowers his leg from the back of the bench and just like the whirlwind he created when he showed up, he’s gone again.  
  
Yuuri looks relieved that the vulgar teenager has left their company to wander to whatever destination he had in mind next. Viktor looks even more relieved.  
  
They sit in silence for a long moment, the heavy air from Yuri’s previous presence hanging heavily upon them.  
  
Yuuri is the first to speak. “Viktor, I—“  
  
Viktor interrupts him gently, “No Yuuri, not here. Let’s both think about what we truly want before we have this conversation, OK, _moya lyubov_? I bought us tickets to Paris for tomorrow. I want to show you how beautiful the world is when we are together.”  
  
He almost expects Yuuri to protest, but is relieved when Yuuri thinks for a moment before he lets out a shaky exhale and gives a honey-sweet smile. “OK. I look forward to it.”  
  
Viktor’s heart melts and he takes Yuuri’s gloved right hand and kisses it tenderly. It causes Yuuri to flush slightly before his gaze turns into one of unease when he remembers that the ring is currently MIA and quite possibly in Spain’s sewer system.  
  
The Russian coach immediately recognizes the danger signs of Yuuri’s anxiety and places a comforting hand on his shoulder before his fiancé can withdraw into himself.  
  
“Yuuri, please don’t worry. This is beyond our control at this point. Let’s have confidence that the hotel management can find our ring.” The words sound falsely reassuring even to Viktor, but it seems like it makes Yuuri feel better regardless.  
  
Yuuri gives a hopeful nod and grasps Viktor’s wrist on the hand that’s holding his shoulder while giving an affectionate squeeze.  
  
They make their way through the rest of the park and eventually back into town. It is already dusk and hours have passed since their lunch but Viktor feels like he’s only been out with Yuuri for such a fleetingly small amount of time. He internally scolds himself for waiting a year to allow himself this free time with his beloved, and reminds himself that taking care of Yuuri emotionally is just as important as helping him to achieve his personal best competitively.  
  
It's when they are walking through the crowded streets that Viktor spots an outdoor rink. It’s glowing in the florescent night lights of neon pink and blue, reflecting off the ice in such a way that the rink itself appears to be one big neon sheet. The entire street is adorned with Christmas lights, and there are decorated Christmas trees placed strategically around the rink and shops surrounding it. Truly, Viktor thinks, this city is just so beautiful.  
  
A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he grabs Yuuri’s hand and begins to usher him toward the rink. “Let’s go skate together,” he says with a delighted lilt to his voice. “We never get to skate together like this.”  
  
Yuuri looks around nervously at the amount of people in the shopping square and in the outdoor rink. Viktor notes that he also looks rather intrigued. “Won’t we be recognized? Also, our skates are in the hotel?”  
  
Viktor continues making his way to their new destination, however, and seems completely unconcerned about either of these issues. He says, instead, “Everyone is focused on the atmosphere and each other tonight, Yuuri. I’ll fluff my scarf and you can pull your beanie down a little, too, if you’re that concerned about being spotted. I, for one, want the whole world to see our love. Besides, you rent skates here anyway.”  
  
Viktor seems determined in his quest to freely skate together so they each attempt to somewhat conceal their identities (Yuuri much more than Viktor, of course). They rent some skates easily enough and gear up before taking their first steps out onto the ice.  
  
There is an eclectic variety of people at the outdoor ice rink this night. Loving parents help their little ones skate without falling over, friends skate together with joyous laughter, a few solo individuals enjoy their solitude. Yuuri notices that a pretty hefty percentage of guests are couples, lost in their own worlds while holding onto one another as to not be separated.  
  
As he and Viktor make their first round around the rink with easy grace, Yuuri thinks awkwardly about if he should reach out and take Viktor’s hand. They had walked hand in hand the other night through the busy streets on a quest to find something good to eat. It wasn’t even that he was worried about what people thought about two men holding hands (after all, they had embraced countless times at tournaments and even kissed on national television), but moreso that they may garner attention that could compromise their anonymity.  
  
And Yuuri really wants Viktor’s undivided attention tonight.  
  
It's as though Viktor is reading Yuuri’s thoughts, because he takes Yuuri’s hand and interlaces their fingers together. Viktor’s sideways smile is all the validation Yuuri needs to feel at ease and they fall into an easy rhythm together around the rink.  
  
They make laps together, even do a few circles whilst holding on to one another, lost in their own world. Yuuri is sure there are gazes locked on them, but when he looks into Viktor’s eyes and sees the entire universe reflected there he can’t find it in himself to care.  
  
They hold on to one another close and stay like that for what feels like hours. The snow falls around them softly, and the neon lights are illuminating them in colors of the rainbow. Yuuri wishes these moments could last forever.  
  
They become so intertwined with one another that the rink attendant has to remind them that their rental time for the skates is up.  
  
Between exploring the city in the afternoon and skating away some of the night, they are already famished again. Viktor leads Yuuri to the port-side restaurant he mentioned earlier and they are escorted to a beautifully decorated table next to a large glass window. The view of the outside world is breathtaking, and Yuuri realizes Viktor was not lying when he said the sea absolutely shined in the night.  
  
Although Yuuri feels like he could watch the ocean forever, he also marvels at the interior design as well. Soft lighting illuminates the inside in a dim golden color. Next to the inner side of the restaurant where there are no windows aquariums full of colorful fish spread the length of the entire wall. Christmas lights are dispersed in a charming array of décor and the bar is so massive it seems as though it contains every kind of drink in the world.  
  
Viktor pulls Yuuri’s chair out for him in a gentlemanly fashion and suddenly the elegance of this place seems so palpable to Yuuri. He really feels completely out of place in his thick jacket and grey beanie (which he takes off out of respect). Viktor, of course, has a dress shirt on under his designer beige trench coat and his usual slacks and loafers. A soft grey scarf covers his collar bones and neck, while brown gloves are adorned on both his hands. He can see the outline of the ring on Viktor’s right ring finger.  
  
“Don’t you think I’m a little underdressed?” Yuuri asks cautiously as he looks around. Viktor makes a thoughtful hum to himself while his gaze follows Yuuri’s.  
  
“No, not really. You’re so beautiful it doesn’t matter what you wear. Besides, the hostess seemed to be a fan of yours. I doubt anyone would say anything.” He gives his notoriously flirty wink before turning his attention to the camarera that has made her appearance at their tableside.  
  
They enjoy the soft ambience and the exquisite food. Viktor seems very taken with the Spanish cuisine while Yuuri is undecided between whether it tastes good or if it tastes flat out weird.  
  
They enjoy a few glasses of wine and relish in the others company. They talk about the past, their friends and family and some events that led them to where they are now. Viktor tells Yuuri funny stories about all the times he deliberately disobeyed Yakov, much to the grumpy coach’s chagrin. Yuuri tells him about Vicchan, his time in Detroit, and the crazy adventures he and Phichit went on together when they were younger and dumber.    
  
They become so engrossed in each other that another hour and half passes by easily. It is only until Viktor looks at his watch that he realizes the night has fully crept up on them. Although he could stay here forever listening to his Yuuri's beautiful voice, he's eager to head to their last destination. He pays for their meal and tips the camarera much more than strictly necessary and she becomes flustered, unfamiliar to patron gratuities.  
  
Viktor asks Yuuri to join him at the seaside for their last rendezvous for the night. They both seem tired after the day’s events, but neither is ready to end their time together just yet.  
  
The night is colder now and the snow is falling a little harder than before, but the moon shines above brightly and illuminates the peaceful waves as they wash onto the shoreline and become one with the earth. A moonlit path is spread out before them, reflecting off the gentle waves and covering the land in a small glow of light. Yuuri is so entranced by the beauty of the night that he doesn’t notice Viktor looking at him in his own unwavering stare.  
  
There is the faint sound of a violin in the distance eliciting such a soothing and graceful melody that Yuuri’s heart swells with the appreciation that he has never really seen anything as fulfilling and _alive_ as this is right now. When he turns to face Viktor, he isn’t surprised to see those aquamarine eyes looking into his own with pure and unbridled love and affection. Not anymore.  
  
Viktor holds his hand out and Yuuri immediately takes it. Viktor flashes his brilliant smile before he says with a low and heady voice, “May I have this dance, my heart?”  
  
Yuuri tries not to give a goofy and intoxicated smile at Viktor’s cheesiness and instead steps forward as they get into position. The violin continues to play softly in the night and they dance to it, slow and sensual. Viktor holds Yuuri close, his cheek pressed into Yuuri’s hair as he breathes him in. Yuuri is tucked under Viktor as they step together in a slow, intimate dance.  
  
After a few moments, Yuuri pulls back and he can’t help but fall in love all over with those icy, sparkling eyes. He thinks that now, in this moment, he’s never been as in love with this man like he is now.  
  
As though taken over by the irrepressible need for one another, they come together.  
  
The kiss is soft and gentle. Viktor’s hand is holding onto the small of Yuuri’s back, rubbing soft circles while his other hand caresses his sweetheart’s cheek. It traces softly over the shell of his lover’s ear before it becomes tangled in Yuuri’s thick, dark locks. Yuuri’s own arms circle around Viktor’s shoulders where they lay heavy and comfortable as the younger male stands on his toes to lean into their shared heat.  
  
Viktor squeezes Yuuri tightly, affectionately in his arms before he tilts his head at just the right angle. Yuuri gets the hint and opens his mouth to allow Viktor’s tongue access to explore the cavern of his mouth. Their tongues lap together in slow, languid strokes as they both become entirely invested in one another. Yuuri is a very inexperienced kisser but Viktor thinks that every kiss is perfect, even when their teeth clack together awkwardly and Yuuri isn’t always sure where to place his hands.  
  
Tonight, however, Yuuri is kissing him with such intensity that it is leaving Viktor utterly breathless and _wrecked_. They separate long enough to appreciate the others flushed cheeks and swollen cherry lips before not even a second later they are back together again, inseparable and so close to one another neither can be sure where one begins and the other ends.  
  
Viktor pulls back to sweetly kiss Yuuri’s eye, his ear, the corner of his mouth, before traveling to his jaw and to his neck. He exhales a long breath against flushed and warm skin before his lips part to place hot, open mouth kisses down Yuuri’s neck. His lover shakes in his arms, gasps for air, and moans quietly.  
  
The ever-burning fire of his love for Yuuri is blazing within him, filling him with a lustful heat that he tried so desperately to hold in until he knew Yuuri was ready. The way Yuuri cups Viktor’s cheek to guide him back to his waiting and wanting mouth seems to indicate to Viktor that his innocent dove is more than ready. They share warm breath and hot tongues as they kiss with pure need. Viktor’s hands smother down Yuuri’s hips, squeezing only the barest hint of soft love-handles before traveling down to grasp handfuls of Yuuri’s plump rear.  
  
When Yuuri moans wantonly into the kiss, Viktor kneads the soft flesh with fervor and desire. He has never wanted anything more than he wants Yuuri right now. He’s not sure if he will ever be able to separate from his angel again, and he’s so hot that he can’t feel the snow falling around them.  
  
Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind because he breaks away to start kissing down Viktor’s own alabaster skin this time, scarf discarded somewhere without care.  
  
“Yuuri— _oh_ , _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor whimpers. He squirms for more friction between them, needing to be as close to Yuuri as possible right now. Viktor can’t tolerate even one centimeter between them. “ _Please_ ,” Viktor whines as Yuuri’s own hands begin to wander down the expanse of the Russian man’s back, over his sides and onto his hips.  
  
Viktor’s pants are horribly tight right now and he’s pretty sure Yuuri is in the same condition. He doesn’t know how he is going to get Yuuri back to the hotel without ravishing him before then. He doesn’t feel like he can take even one step away from Yuuri at this point.  
  
They are about to come together again for another burning kiss when there is a loud rumbling clearing of someone’s throat behind them. They freeze, respectively, before they both turn their attention to the sound.  
  
Not even ten feet away an elderly couple sit hand in hand on a bench, enjoying the night. The man’s eyes are so wrinkled Yuuri can’t imagine how the elderly man can see them, but if he could, he would be sure that there would be an awkward and unapproving look staring back at him.  
  
His wife seems entirely intrigued though and nudges her husband in the ribs. The old man sputters at the force of it as she says, “Oh honey, you ruined it.” She turns a soft expression to the two men still holding onto one another next to the sea. “Please don’t mind us and continue.”  
  
They separate in a second. Viktor is pretty sure he’s never lost an erection so fast in his life, and it actually makes him a little dizzy. Yuuri has turned away from him to face the opposite direction with his head hanging low and his hand covering his eyes and mostly likely a very embarrassed expression. Viktor’s own hand comes to run over his lips and chin in a moment of pure frustration.    
  
Viktor turns his attention to the couple before he takes a bow and, “Please excuse us,” He grabs Yuuri’s hand in a tight grasp. “We apologize for the show. Good night.”  
  
Viktor pulls Yuuri from the seafront and into the winding, decorated streets of Barcelona. His pace is a little fast for Yuuri to keep up with but the younger man opts not to say anything, especially when he can admire the red and flustered expression on Viktor’s face like this.  
  
They make it to the hotel, and after taking turns in the shower, find themselves in bed. They are both so tired from their busy day that they can’t find it in themselves to continue where they left off. Instead, they lay contently in a tangle of limbs.  
  
Yuuri’s head is positioned comfortably on Viktor’s chest as his lover winds his arm around the side of his dove's slim waist to hold him close. They opt not to speak about the event that transpired at the shoreline and instead lean into each others soothing caresses. Yuuri can hear the slow, strong heartbeat of his partner and it begins to lull him to sleep.  
  
Viktor turns to kiss Yuuri’s hair affectionately before he mumbles a drowsy goodnight. Yuuri gives a sleepy yawn in return before burying his nose into Viktor’s body heat. He kisses the skin there softly before he returns the sentiment in a hushed whisper.  
  
They fall asleep within minutes, exhausted, comfortable and blissful in their shared embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to clarify that the old man is only disapproving in the fact that there are two lovesick idiots blocking his view while getting hot and heavy. ;)


	5. Starlight Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri spend a night in Paris that culminates into a burning and passionate end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot, lot longer than I had anticipated. Unbeta'd. Please forgive any mistakes, I attempted to proof-read to weed out errors.

That night, Viktor has a dream that he is dancing on the ice of a starlight ocean. The opalescent colors of purple, blue and pink surround him as the stars sparkle beneath his feet. He is adorned in his famed Stammi Vicino dancewear that glitters in the reflection of the stardust sky. The music is powerful and it pulls Viktor forward.  
  
There is a soft, fleeting embrace of loving hands on him and it touches his soul in all of its most intimate places. He turns to face his most beloved donned in his mirrored dancewear if only a dusky shade of blue instead. Like this, dancing and gliding together in the iridescent glow, Viktor feels completely whole again.  
  
He wakes to the beginnings of a slowly rising dawn, Yuuri curled securely in his side. In the hazy confines of warm drowsiness, Viktor realizes he has been saved.    
  
\------------------------------------  


The TVG train is compact but comfortable, albeit crowded. They are sitting side by side with a finished wooden table between them and a middle-aged Danish couple. Viktor makes small talk with the husband in what Yuuri thinks is French. As a young fan he remembers reading somewhere that the Russian man is fluent in not only English, but French as well. Now that he has taken up Japanese, that leaves Viktor almost fluent in four different languages. No wonder some people call him a genius.  
  
At some point the husband nods off and the wife busies herself with her phone. The Spanish cityscape gives way to flat, peaceful plains as they make their way to Paris, France.  
  
“Maaaaaaaaakkaaaaachin!!” Viktor whines into his phone. It is early morning in the European countryside, but it is late afternoon back in Hasetsu. Yuuri’s mother and Mari have made time to Skype call and check up on the adventuring couple. Viktor’s canine companion makes a whine into the screen eerily similar to his owner’s and presses his nose against the glass of Yuuri’s family laptop.  
  
Makkachin seems to be utterly confused as to how Viktor can be in front of him and yet not at the same time. The dog barks happily and wags his tail with vigor anyway, causing Viktor to gush affectionately over the phone to his most trusted companion. Yuuri feels the smallest twinge of homesickness before a gentle fondness for his goofy boyfriend and equally jovial pup washes over him.  
  
Viktor is lucky he is so cute, because Yuuri is finally beginning to snap out of a sullied mood from events prior that morning. After Viktor roused him from his slumber with sleepy morning kisses, they packed their few belongings and headed down to check out at the desk. Yuuri had made every effort to psych himself up with hopefulness that his lost ring had been found (somehow) by the hotel management.  
  
It had not.  
  
The hotel manager apologized profusely and even offered to refund the amount of the ring’s worth, to which Yuuri promptly turned down. He had felt far more saddened than angry at that point. After all, it wasn’t any particular person’s fault. It could have happened to anyone. People lost their most cherished valuables all the time, and sometimes in the worst case scenario, even had them stolen.  
  
No, it was Viktor’s blithe attitude about the whole situation that had put the ultimate damper on Yuuri’s spirit that morning. No amount of money could replace his coveted ring that he had for but a short 24-36 hours. Sure, he had paid for the set and ultimately was the one who initiated their reciprocated exchange at the cathedral, but it hurt to think that the ring and meaning behind them meant so little to Viktor. If he didn’t care, Yuuri would have appreciated that he could at least _act like he cared if only for Yuuri’s sake_.  
  
Instead, Viktor opted to pat Yuuri affectionately on the back and say, “Don’t worry love, we’ll get you a new one!”  
  
It was the worst possible piece of dialogue he could have chosen to say at that time.  
  
Perhaps part of Viktor’s nonchalant behavior had to do with the fact Yuuri had been determined to call them “good luck charms”. At the time he was so massively shy and completely unsure of the depth of Viktor’s love for him that he thought it would be _impossible_ for the rings to be more than a weak link between them. Yuuri had planned for it to be the last remnant of his love for Viktor once the latter left to go back to Russia and eventually forgot about Yuuri and their time spent together entirely.  
  
But Viktor always managed to surprise him.  
  
Now, that ring was the reminder to Yuuri how much Viktor actually does love him and how much he wants them to stay together regardless of whatever challenges may await them in the future.  
  
Or at least, Yuuri had _thought_ that’s what the ring had come to mean between them.  
  
Beyond that, if Viktor was excited to spend one more day of a small, blissful vacation together, he wasn’t exactly starting their morning off in the most cordial fashion with his aloof behavior.  
  
On the train however, with Viktor’s wide and heart-shaped smile on full display to Makkachin and Mari, Yuuri found that it was impossible to stay (very) mad at his frustratingly complicated lover. Sometimes, Yuuri was under the impression that Viktor himself didn’t really know what he wanted.  
  
It’s Viktor’s warm hand on his forearm that snaps him from his deep thoughts.  
  
“ _Yuuuuri_ ,” the Russian sings, “tell Makkachin you miss him.”  
  
Yuuri can feel the curious stare of the Danish woman sitting across from him. He gulps.  
  
“Uh, hi, Makkachin?” He says questioningly. Does Makkachin even know what hi means? “I miss you.”  
  
The furry person barks merrily in response, and Yuuri thinks that maybe this dog knows four languages too.  
  
“Ne, Yuuri,” comes a rough voice. Mari is suddenly within picture and a soft smile is on her lips despite the casual tone. She looks tired, probably due to the long trip from Barcelona back to Japan. “I just want you to know that we are so proud of you.” Yuuri feels his face flush and almost wonders if it’s childish to want to cry at the praise even though he had heard it over and over again from various people after the competition. But through it all, Mari had always been there, supportive even when Yuuri failed. “Mom hasn’t stopped gushing—“  
  
“ _Yuuuuu-chan_ ,” Hiroko’s round and beaming face bounces into the screen. Mari is knocked to the side by the force of it. “Huh? Mari, how does this work? Yuu-chan, can you see me?”  
  
Yuuri lets out a boisterous laugh at his mother’s continuing struggle with technology. A person would think after all the time they have spent Skyping one another through Yuuri’s professional figure-skating exploits she’d have a grasp on video-chatting by now.  
  
“Yes, mom,” Yuuri says fondly. Now he _is_ really missing home. “I can see you.”  
  
“Yuu-chan, your father, sister and I are just so proud of you. I wish you could have seen the way Minami-kun and the triplets were cheering for you at home! Minako-sensei said she’s cried every night since the Grand Prix. Minami-kun even confessed that he has posters of you in his room now, like you did with Vicchan!” Yuuri makes a choked noise and Viktor looks at him with a curious beam. He thanks every god that Viktor is still developing his grasp on Japanese because he doesn’t look like he is understanding everything Hiroko is saying.  
  
“When you get home mama is going to cook you and Vicchan the biggest bowl of katsudon you won’t be able to eat all of it!” That, of course, instantly grabs both Yuuri and Viktor’s full attention. Viktor begins to rattle off a reply in poorly constructed Japanese while Yuuri is suddenly hit with a brilliant idea.  
  
So far, these last two nights have been almost entirely about Viktor making Yuuri feel special and loved (even though he was being an oblivious twat about the ring). Yuuri’s cheeks begin to grow warm at the memories, and he knows that these are nights he will never forget. Today, though, he wants to let Viktor know how much he means to Yuuri too.  
  
Tonight, he wants to confide in Viktor exactly what he wants for his--- no, _their future_.   
  
“I can’t wait for you boys to be home. Call again soon, OK?” His mom chirps over the phone. Makkachin gives a farewell bark in the background and Viktor gives a light-hearted farewell in return, promising Makkachin mountains of French doggie treats upon his return. Yuuri waves goodbye while Viktor closes the Skype app and turns his attention back to Yuuri.  
  
“Well, my darling, what shall we do now? Only…. Hmm,” he glances at his watch. “4 more hours to go until we make it to the City of Lights.” Viktor is attempting to keep a calm and cool voice, but the joyful sparkle in his eyes betray his excitement.  
  
Yuuri gives a bemused smile and reaches into his bag to pull out a pair of headphones. He hands the right one to Viktor. “Well, why don’t we watch something then? There’s a new show I’ve been meaning to tell you about but we’ve been so busy….”  
  
Viktor doesn’t need any more convincing. They enjoy the rest of the ride huddled together, streaming some American show Yuuri had heard about on the internet.  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
When they arrive to the Paris Gare de Lyon station it is already early afternoon. Yuuri is immediately struck by the amount of people in every direction. Needless to say, it is quite packed. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Christmas in Paris would be a destination for couples and families the world over, but Yuuri has always had a nervous feeling about crowds and people and this is no different.  
  
Viktor is at his side rambling excitedly and Yuuri catches the gist, something about how Paris is one of Viktor’s favorite places in the world and he is disappointed they can only stay a night. Yuuri becomes distracted by the people and noises around them, Viktor’s gleeful voice disappearing into the fog of the crowd.  
  
They exit the station as Viktor waves goodbye to the Danish couple they had met earlier on the train while Yuuri snaps out of his crowd stress. Now that they are in open air, he feels a little better. Luckily, it is a shining, beautiful day in Paris with only a slight sting to the cold. Viktor had mentioned that snow in Paris wasn’t particularly common and that they should enjoy their sight-seeing and doing without battling the freezing cold. They are each carrying their luggage with them, and Viktor wastes no time hailing a taxi.  
  
“First, let’s check in at the hotel and put our things down.” He flashes Yuuri a tender smile as a taxi pulls up to them. “If that’s OK with you, my love?”  
  
Yuuri gives Viktor a small nod, but mulls silently on how exactly he is going to go about the spontaneous plan he had in mind. He wants to provide Viktor with his own little surprise this afternoon but it will require them separating if even for half an hour. Considering Viktor has been all but glued to Yuuri’s side for two days now, it doesn’t seem like it will be an easy task.  
  
Viktor rattles off something in French to their driver while Yuuri begins to think through his poorly thought-out plan, mostly wondering how he can get Viktor out of the hotel room for a short amount of time, or how he is even going to find a market where he can pick up the needed supplies. He knows absolutely nothing about Paris, he doesn’t even really know how to greet someone in French, and he hates wandering around lost on his own. Yuuri is a creature of habit and all this traveling, sight-seeing and doing is really making him miss his small room back home.  
  
Soft fingers tuck a stay lock of hair behind his ear and Yuuri is snapped from his thoughts. He looks over to see Viktor looking at him affectionately, leaning forward, chin supported by his hand. His fingers brush Yuuri’s cheek lightly before withdrawing.  
  
“Tired, my darling?” Viktor asks sweetly.  
  
_Yes_ , Yuuri thinks instantly, but opts to give a faltering smile instead. “No, no, I’m just…. It’s just a lot, lately. I’m not used to all… this.” He sweeps his hand in the air in a general motion. “After last year’s Grand Prix I pretty much took a flight home the next day.”  
  
Viktor wiggles an eyebrow at the confession as a smile threatens to spill on his face. “So, this is your first time truly traveling?”  
  
Yuuri briefly notes that there is a slight prideful tone hidden somewhere in the question, but disregards it. “Yes,” he says simply. He feels like he should probably explain that he has never had the drive to go anywhere because he’s never had someone to share it with, but that would basically be another way of confessing that once again, Viktor has taken almost all his firsts.  
  
And he was already rather full of himself, if Yuuri may dare.  
  
Viktor’s eyes shine brightly and Yuuri realizes that the message got across anyway. He’s looking at Yuuri in such a way that the Japanese man is worried Viktor is going to close the distance between them with an impromptu kiss, and Yuuri really doesn’t want to get “that look” from the taxi driver right now. Viktor must get the hint because, instead, he gives a content sigh and leans back against the seat.  
  
“How did I become so lucky?” Viktor breathes dreamily, and Yuuri is embarrassed for both of them.  
  
In a few mere moments, they are in downtown Paris. They pull up to a rather extravagant, tall building that towers over the street. Stone steps lead up to the decorated glass doors and Yuuri can see from the street that a large, classy chandelier hangs proudly in the middle of the hall.  
  
They make their way inside and Yuuri can’t stop himself from staring dumbly. Everything is so…. Classy. From the marble tiling of the flooring, the tables decorated freely with carnations, to the large, soothing fountain in the middle of the hall, this was like no other hotel they had stayed at. Yuuri wonders exactly how Viktor managed to book them a room in so little time.  
  
They check in and Viktor grabs the key cards. He points them at Yuuri and purrs, “We get the top floor suite.”  
  
Yuuri stares at Viktor incredulously while he’s led to the glass elevator. As the doors close in front of them, Yuuri turns to see the busy Paris boulevard behind them. There are shops surrounding the hotel, mostly designer clothing shops, a jewelry store, a storefront decorated in children’s toys and a miniature electronic train set that circles the entire span of the store’s front window. Next to the toy store, Yuuri notes what appears to be a café and a bookstore combined.  
  
Yuuri’s eyes sweep over the busy people and traffic until his eyes land on what appears to be a small market. _There it is_ , Yuuri thinks excitedly. At least he won’t have to walk far. Now, to get Viktor out for a short while…  
  
They continue their ascent up the towering hotel until Yuuri can feel his ears popping. He swallows dryly with an audible gulp, and he’s surprised Viktor doesn’t turn to give him an odd stare. If there is one more thing Yuuri doesn’t like more than crowds, it's heights.  
  
Well, he can’t fault his loving boyfriend for what he doesn’t know.  
  
They make it to the top floor and step out into a small hall that leads to two large chestnut doors. Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand and helps steer him into the suite after swiping the keycard first.  
  
Viktor holds the door open for Yuuri to go through, and Yuuri is immediately taken off guard by the _magnitude_ of classy, French comfort. The word suite really doesn’t do it justice.  
  
The central room is an exquisitely decorated living room arrangement, fluffy couches and a large screen TV above a decorated fireplace take up the majority of the space. The room melds into a small dining area that hosts an upscale bar which appears to be fully stocked. A chandelier much like the one in the glass hall hangs above them, illuminating the room in a soft, golden glow.  
  
Yuuri notes that there is an archway that leads to a small kitchenette area as well. _Good,_ he thinks. _Step two complete.  
  
_ Another set of chestnut doors stand on the opposite wall and Yuuri thinks that must be the master bedroom. He’s awed at the size and space of this “suite”, and pales when he thinks of how much this must cost. Viktor was by no means a poor man, but he wasn’t necessarily rich either. Beyond lavish hotels, designer clothes, designer chapstick, high-end shoes, spontaneous international airplane tickets…. Wait, where was Yuuri going with this?  
  
They open the doors to the bedroom suite and if Yuuri wasn’t already floored, he’s truly surprised he hasn’t keeled over now. The entire opposite wall is one glass sheet window overlooking the busy downtown Paris. It’s beautiful during the day, and Yuuri gawks at the thought of how it must look in the night.  
  
Their bed is large and comfortable. Before the window is a small decorated table for two, wine and fruit already laid out for them. Another TV faces the bed and there is a small dresser and a walk-in closet adjacent to their sleeping arrangement.  
  
Viktor begins to chat happily away to Yuuri as he busies himself to allocating their respective belongings. Yuuri is in his own world, however, and wanders into the bathroom.  
  
The black tile on the floor and ceiling sparkle like stars in the sky, and the dark hardwood floor leads to a large, in-ground jacuuzi bathtub. Surrounding the tub, countless unlit candles are strewn about for gentle lighting. Opposite, the counters yield into a large, sunrise-shaped mirror that reflects the entire bathroom. If that isn’t mortifying enough, the entire wall connected to the tub is a large sheet of clear glass like in the bedroom, and the city streets shine below them as though they are in another far-off world.  
  
So not only will Yuuri see himself reflected in the mirror naked in a tub, but the whole world will get to see him too.  
  
“ _Viktor_!” Yuuri cries in a high-octave, but turns to find that the Russian is already in the doorway, admiring the view.  
  
“Yes, _moya lyubov_?” Viktor asks with pure innocence in his tone.  
  
Yuuri isn’t buying it one bit.  
  
“T-the, there’s, do you see—” Yuuri stops, gapping at Viktor like a fish out of water. “Window!” Is all he can manage to say as he points dumbly in front of him.  
  
Viktor can’t suppress an amused giggle and shakes his head giddily at Yuuri’s panic. “My darling, the glass here is tinted. I assure you that no one can see into this room.” A flashy smirk graces his features as he murmurs lowly, “The only one who is going to be seeing you tonight _is me_.”  
  
Yuuri feels like the ground is sinking underneath him, and he leans against the marble counter for support. Strong arms wrap around him instantly and he feels Viktor begin to nuzzle him affectionately. “ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri whimpers weakly as chaste kisses pepper his cheek.  
  
“I just adore you so much, Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs into the warm skin and Yuuri closes his eyes, sure that he is dead and that this is all just an elaborate final fantasy before he ascends into the heavens clutching his silver medal.  
  
Viktor pulls back (not without one last kiss) and leads a dumbfounded Yuuri out of the elegant washroom and back into the bedroom. Yuuri sits on the bed as he watches Viktor continue to place their needed accessories from their luggage in and around the room. Viktor has turned the TV on to the news where they are currently broadcasting the upcoming weather report. Yuuri can’t understand a word of French, but he does know what numbers and small weather symbols mean. It looks like it’s going to be a clear night in Paris.  
  
Viktor tilts his head ever so slightly, honing in to listen to the following news stories as he hums happily to himself. When he’s finished unpacking, he looks over at a clearly bewildered Yuuri and can’t help but chuckle silently to himself. This is _exactly_ the reaction he had hoped to see.  
  
“So,” Viktor chirps cheerfully, catching Yuuri’s attention. “Where we are going tonight actually has a strict dress code, so I ordered us some suits. I used the same measurements from the set we had tailored for the Grand Prix, so it should fit.” He can tell from Yuuri’s shocked expression that he thinks Viktor has really gone too far this time, but Viktor stops him before he can begin to protest. “—Please, Yuuri, let me spoil you for once. You deserve it.”  
  
Yuuri immediately shuts his mouth, and a deep, red blush spreads from his face, onto his neck and over his shoulders. Viktor is thrilled; he hasn’t made Yuuri blush this hard in days.  
  
“For once?” Yuuri mumbles as he looks away, blush still a vivid crimson color. “All you’ve been doing is spoiling me…”  
  
Viktor’s heart melts. He’s at Yuuri’s side in an instant, turning Yuuri’s face so he can begin to kiss him tenderly all over again. For the next several minutes, all Viktor can think about is Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri_.  
  
Time is fleeting, however, and Viktor has to force himself away from his sweetheart with every ounce of strength he can muster. After all, he doesn’t plan for them to separate for any reason tonight.  
  
Viktor strokes Yuuri’s cheek once more with longing before he stands. “So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to step out and retrieve our suits. It shouldn’t take me very long at all.” He’s really hoping that Yuuri won’t demand to follow him. He knows it’s a really weak reason to part from one another, but he needs Yuuri to stay here so he can pick up the suits and make a detour to another certain shop.  
  
He’s actually, to be frank, shocked when Yuuri perks up and replies, “Oh! Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” His sweet fiancé pauses and then adds, “I’ll just wait here.”  
  
Viktor’s pending adlib argument about why Yuuri should stay behind wilts away, and he reels at the easiness of the entire situation. Maybe Yuuri needs some time to himself after all? Viktor could spend every minute of every day with Yuuri by his side, but also recognizes that Yuuri has always been a naturally reclusive individual, unused to the constant presence of another person. Although he knows it’s entirely unfounded, the thought stings a little bit.  
  
“Well, then,” Viktor begins awkwardly. “I’ll be back soon, my darling. Don’t miss me too much,” he recovers with a flirtatious wink and feels at peace when Yuuri gives him a playful eye roll.  
  
They kiss chastely before Viktor begins to leave, but is stopped short when a hand pulls on the back of his coat.  
  
“Actually, Viktor,” Yuuri begins. “Can I have the other keycard?”  
  
Viktor stops dead in his tracks. He turns to face Yuuri with a skeptical look on his face. “Why?” He asks bluntly. “Where do you plan to go alone?”  
  
Yuuri cringes at Viktor’s straightforwardness and Viktor mentally slaps himself for sounding so rapacious. Yuuri stares at him wordlessly and it leaves Viktor feeling like trash.  
  
“Sorry, Yuuri,” Viktor says with a gentle tone. “Of course you can, here.” He reaches into his wallet to hand Yuuri the duplicate card. “It’s just, if there’s somewhere you would like to go, I’d love to accompany you.”  
  
Yuuri attempts to hide his dejected look behind a faltering smile and says, “I was just going to hit up that bookstore across the street for a minute while you were away.”  
  
All the tension leaves Viktor’s body at the reassurance and he realizes that he is the most phenomenally dramatic human being to ever walk the earth. Yuuri is a grown man able to live independently without him for 23.5 years so there is absolutely no reason why Viktor should be so despaired at the idea of Yuuri going somewhere without him.  
  
Yuuri takes the card and pats Viktor’s shoulder affectionately, soothing the giant toddler inside the older man. “I’ll see you when you get back.”  
  
Viktor nods dumbfoundedly and they stare at one another for a moment. There’s a questionable look in Yuuri’s eyes but Viktor gulps down his suspicions and retreats. The elevator doors shut as Yuuri waves to his departing lover. Viktor returns the wave, his pressing plans for Yuuri tonight on the forefront of his mind.  
  
After a brief pause, Yuuri looks at the keycard with roused curiosity. _What in the world was that about_ , he thinks. Sometimes Viktor was so unbelievably childish. At times it was charming, but in these kind of instances, it’s really more annoying than anything. Despite that, it leaves Yuuri feeling relieved that Viktor isn’t the picture-perfect god-like being he imagined when Yuuri was still a faceless, devoted fan.  
  
Yuuri piddles until he is sure Viktor is out of the general area and makes his way downstairs and across the street to the market, a small smile on his face as he hurries excitedly.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to procure the ingredients he needs and he’s back in the hotel, trying to make proper use of the kitchenette. Yuuri isn’t exactly a noteworthy cook, and he's only helped his mother out in the kitchen a few times, but he’s determined to do this right. He may be awkward, unrefined, and not particularly good at anything other than figure skating (and that was sometimes questionable), but he’s got perseverance.  
  
After draining the rice and setting it aside, he places the pork in the oil slickened skillet and fries it until it’s a golden brown hue. He works on a stock mixture next. He continues to busy himself, and retreats back to look at the directions on his phone several times. He manages to put together something relatively similar to his favorite dish and tries to rearrange it in the bowl to look as appetizing as it does at home.  
  
It’s…. ok(?) for his first attempt to replicate his mother’s specialty dish, and he sheepishly prays that it tastes a lot better than it looks. He’s no romantic, but he hopes that his attempt will demonstrate to Viktor just how much Yuuri appreciates him.  
  
Yuuri prepares the small table in the dining area and places the two dishes opposite of one another. He sets the cutlery out too and fetches two glasses to fill fresh water in. He’s just finished and set the fireplace alight when Viktor wanders back into the suite with two large bags, hair frazzled from the light wind outside.  
  
A large, beaming grin is on his face as he spots Yuuri. He places the bags on the floor next to the couch and hurries to embrace his sweetheart. “Oh Yuuri,” he whines dramatically. “I can’t believe I was away from you for almost an hour!” He rubs his cheek against Yuuri’s hair in his tight and suffocating grip.  
  
Yuuri chokes a little and attempts to swat at Viktor’s arm. “Y-yes, me too.”  
  
Viktor pulls back, prepared to kiss Yuuri as many times as minutes had passed since they’d last parted, but stops, scrunches up his nose and sniffs the air. “Huh, Yuuri? Do you smell that?” He looks around inquisitively until he spots the table.  
  
Yuuri watches Viktor’s face intently. The Russian man has a blank look on his face until he furrows his eyebrows, squints his eyes, and stares intently at the dishes laid out before them. For a fleeting moment, Yuuri thinks that he’s made the meal completely unrecognizable to his European lover.  
  
Viktor slackens his grasp on Yuuri and is at the tableside in an instant, icy sparkles glittering in his eyes as he looks over the dishes like an excited child. “OMG,” he gasps. “YUURI.”  
  
The Japanese skater opens his mouth in a confused laugh and spreads his hands before him in a questioning sweep. “Uh, yes?”  
  
“YUURI,” Viktor cries again, and rushes to crush his sweetheart in another vice-like grip. “You made us katsudon, _mon amour_??”  
  
“Yeh,” Yuuri attempts to say in Viktor’s enthusiastic embrace, his face crushed into the cool fabric of Viktor’s outerwear. “Ey tred.”  
  
Viktor is usually cheerful and full of energy, but the way his eyes glow as he unceremoniously devours Yuuri’s somewhat botched attempt at Katsudon warms his heart. If it didn’t taste good, Viktor made a good show to make Yuuri think otherwise. Although he isn’t particularly impressed with the results himself, he is immensely pleased that it is to Viktor’s liking. After all, it was meant to show Yuuri’s love.  
  
 If Viktor’s elated and blissful expression is anything to go by, Yuuri thinks he’s nailed it.  
  
They finish up, and after Viktor gushes about how wonderful and perfect Yuuri is, they lay out the two new suits on the bed to admire. Yuuri has had a few suits in the past for events like the Grand Prix Banquet, but he has rarely worn them and they have certainly never been this expensive before. Viktor helps Yuuri get undressed from his track pants and jacket and subsequently into the new suit. The jacket is a little stiff so he opts to trade it out for his white button-down and woven dark grey dress coat. He bundles up in Viktor’s black scarf for good measure.  
  
Viktor is standing by his side adjusting the cuffs of his own shirt as his gaze runs over Yuuri’s form. “My, my,” Viktor coos. “You’re just so handsome. Is that my scarf?”  
  
Yuuri shuffles his feet nervously and scratches the back of his neck. “Yes, and… uh, thank you. I’m not really used to dressing up so nicely. Thank you for the suit.” He pauses. “Thank you?”  
  
Viktor lets out an amused giggle and ushers them out of the suite. It’s mid-afternoon now and they have but a few hours before their reserved time at the restaurant. Viktor had been looking immensely forward to the French cuisine but now that he’s had a taste of Yuuri’s heartfelt cooking, he’s not sure if it can even compare.  
  
They hit all of the hotspots for Paris attractions that Viktor feels is a must-see in such short time. They begin at the Notre Dame and admire the cathedral’s antique feel, graze past the Louvre from the outside, and head to the Rue des Martyrs to check out all the artisan goods. Viktor seems enthralled by every stall they pass, and Yuuri even finds a few things he can take back home as souvenirs.  
  
Next they head to the Galeries Lafayette, an upscale shopping mall of sorts that is absolutely decked out for Christmas. Yuuri doesn’t have much money so he can’t do much more than window shop (despite Viktor’s insistence that he pay for everything) but the lights and the giant decorated Christmas tree are so amazingly lovely it makes it worth going just for sight-seeing alone. He even gets Viktor to take a picture of him posing with a giant polar bear dressed in a scarf.  
  
When they leave, it’s already dark. The lights are bright and illuminate the streets with various neon colors, and the trees along the walkways are strewn with Christmas lights. They walk bedside one another on the busy street and Viktor laments that they don’t have enough time to visit Disneyland Paris.  
  
They stop by a local coffee shop and grab some hot drinks as they make their way to the Champ de Mar. Viktor says that he wants Yuuri to see the Mur pour la Paix because at one point it gave him inspiration for one of his programs. After stopping by and having a stranger snap a photo of them together, Viktor leads him down the rest of the green space where the Eiffel Tower glows in the distance.  
  
“The restaurant I booked happens to be on the second floor,” Viktor says nonchalantly, pointing in the distance.    
  
Yuuri gives a small, understanding nod before what Viktor said registers. “Wait, you booked us dinner in the Eiffel Tower??”  
  
“Yes?” Viktor asks, unsure why Yuuri is so shocked. “Are you okay with that?”  
  
“Well, I just,” Yuuri stops. “I didn’t think it would be that easy to get a reservation or… isn’t it kind of expensive?”  
  
Viktor makes a suffering “pfft” sound and wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him close. “I told you not to worry about that, didn’t I, _solnyshko?_ ”  
  
After Yuuri grumbles something in return not quite audible to Viktor’s ear, they continue on. The Christmas market is underway and they walk through the crowded street and stalls and on to the lighted tower ahead.  
  
They take a private lift up to the second floor of the glowing landmark and Yuuri feels another sense of queasiness at the height. It’s one thing to be on a plane in the aisle seat, but it’s another thing to look out over the city of Paris hundreds of feet up in the air. When they reach the second floor, Yuuri appreciates that the restaurant is beautiful and decorated for Christmas. Its low lighting and regal atmosphere make for a romantic feel. It’s busy and filled to its maximum with people, but the service is wonderful and the food is even better.  
  
Viktor makes polite chat with the waiter and orders something he thinks they will both enjoy. After winking at Yuuri again, he says, “It’s probably nothing compared to your delicious katsudon.”  
  
“Please,” Yuuri mumbles into Viktor’s scarf, pushing his glasses from the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tease me.” He makes a pleased mental note that the scarf smells like that certain brand of cologne Viktor loves to wear. It makes Yuuri a little dizzy.  
  
They share conversation and food over a glass of wine, and the restaurant buzzes with energy in the background. Yuuri has been thinking about what he wants to say to Viktor tonight, and as they both gaze out of the glass paneling and into the Paris night, he thinks he may have found the courage he needs to say it now.  
  
“Viktor,” Yuuri begins. He waits for Viktor to finish his glass before he continues. “Please continue to be my coach for this next year. I want to win gold for you.”  
  
Viktor places his glass on the table a little too loudly and it causes the people at the table behind to them to look up, but Viktor’s so focused on Yuuri right now it doesn’t seem like he notices.  
  
“Yuuri, that’s,” Viktor breathes in a quivering voice. “That’s amazing, I—I, yes, _please_ , please let me continue to coach you. I want nothing more.” He leans across the table to clutch Yuuri’s hand in his own. “This is like the first time you told me you loved me all over again.”  
  
Yuuri gives a light-hearted laugh at the overzealous sentiment and he can’t stop the smile that threatens to spill over. Viktor squeezes his hand lovingly and Yuuri is delighted at the rosy blush that covers his usually pale cheeks.  
  
“Yuuri,” Viktor says lowly, his aquamarine eyes clouded with something Yuuri can’t quite put a finger on. “Can I come over there? I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you, please?”  
  
“No!” Yuuri hisses in a hushed giggle. “Are you crazy? We’re in the middle of a restaurant!”  
  
“So?” Viktor retorts in his own hushed whisper. “Everyone can see we’re madly in love, what’s a kiss going to change?” He tilts his head to motion to the table next to them. “See, look at them, they’re jealous.”  
  
The couple next to them don’t seem remotely aware of Viktor or Yuuri’s existence at this time, and Yuuri shakes his head emphatically. “ _No_ , Viktor.”  
  
The childish pout he receives almost makes him cough out an obnoxious laugh, but instead he runs his thumb tenderly along Viktor’s gloved hand and whispers, “ _Later_ , when we’re alone and can’t be interrupted, okay?”  
  
Viktor looks like a man reborn.  
  
They finish the rest of their meal quietly with Yuuri feeling sly and Viktor noticeably on cloud nine. Yuuri had expected Viktor to be pleased at Yuuri’s decision but he hadn’t expected him to be quite so… ecstatic.  
  
On the lift, Viktor pulls Yuuri close and kisses him anyway.  
  
“I said later, didn’t I?” Yuuri chastises weakly against Viktor’s lips, but leans into the kiss regardless. Viktor only makes an affirmative hum before his hand is lost in Yuuri’s locks and his breath is stolen in the space between them.  
  
Yuuri thinks it’s a good time for them to make their way back to the hotel while he’s still got some confidence in him, but Viktor shakes his head with a mischievous grin and pulls Yuuri along into the night. “Not yet, my love. I have something I want to give you.”  
  
Yuuri almost blurts out that the only thing he wants is Viktor in bed right now, but stops himself.  
  
Viktor leads Yuuri through the Place de la Concorde and up to the giant, glowing ferris wheel. Yuuri gawks at its height and feels nauseated just standing below it. Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist and says, “This is the Roue de Paris, my darling. They bring it back during Christmas and the New Year, so we are lucky to be in Paris right now.”  
  
“A-ah,” Yuuri says numbly. He wants nothing more than to please Viktor tonight though, so when Viktor takes his hand and leads him into a vacant carriage, Yuuri begins to feel a cold sweat break out. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this_ he repeats desperately in his head.  
  
As they begin to ascend, the Paris evening spans out in front of them. The lights are vast and sparkling, multitudes of different colors dyeing the velvet sky. Yuuri watches a steam boat glide across the glistening river before he can feel the lump in the back of his throat threaten his airway. He turns his attention to Viktor who is looking back at Yuuri, and _he looks serious.  
  
_ “Yuuri,” Viktor begins. He pauses, opens his mouth, and then sighs heavily and closes it again. It’s so uncharacteristic to Viktor that Yuuri begins to fear that something is wrong. He’s so frozen in this realization that he can’t bring himself to say anything in response.  
  
“Yuuri,” Viktor begins again, this time with a quiver in his voice. He grabs both of Yuuri’s hands in his own and runs his fingers thoughtfully over Yuuri’s cool palms, his knuckles, and wrists. He kisses both of them tenderly. “I love you, Yuuri.”  
  
“I love you too, Viktor,” Yuuri says softly. He’s not sure exactly where this conversation is going, but he wants to soothe Viktor as much as he can. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“No, no,” Viktor laughs uneasily. “I’m just, uhm, nervous.”  
  
Yuuri is pretty sure he has never heard Viktor say he’s been nervous before. Ever.  
  
Viktor sighs again and looks back into Yuuri’s eyes, tightening his grip on Yuuri’s hands. “I love you so much, and I’m not sure how I can put these feelings into words. I just,” he pauses, faltering in his words. “I just love you _so much_. You’ve given me the greatest love in my life and I feel like I can’t give you nearly as much in return.”  
  
Yuuri gapes and wants to grasp Viktor’s shoulders and shake him, tell him that Viktor’s given Yuuri back the light that he thought he’d lost a year ago. He wants to tell him that he’s given him love for skating again, life again, and that he’s mended Yuuri’s broken heart. He wants to tell Viktor that he’ll never leave him, that he’s never loved anyone like this before and he never will again.  
  
But he can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead, he waits.  
  
“ _Solnyshko_ , if it’s alright with you, I’ve been thinking. I think I want to skate for one more season.” Viktor’s eyes are bright with determination and resolution.  
  
Yuuri feels so many emotions at once he’s unsure exactly where to begin.  
  
“Viktor, I... _that’s amazing_!” Yuuri echoes Viktor’s previous sentiment. “Of course that’s okay with me, I mean, I—I’m your biggest fan so of course I’m okay with that.” Yuuri’s hands shake as much as his voice does, and he’s pretty sure there are tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “Oh Viktor, I’m just so happy.”  
  
Viktor leans forward to press their foreheads together, and Yuuri thinks he can see just a hint of gleaming diamonds in the corner of Viktor’s own icy orbs.  
  
They laugh and Viktor pulls Yuuri on top of him, cradling his chocolate eyed sweetheart in his lap while rocking him gently. Viktor buries his nose into Yuuri’s neck and breathes him in as Yuuri gives sweet and airy giggles at the ticklish caresses.  
  
“Vi-ii-ktor,” Yuuri titters. “S-Stahp.”  
  
“ _Never_ , my love,” Viktor croons.  
  
They stay like that until Viktor sets Yuuri gently beside him. They grin at one another goofily before Viktor cups Yuuri’s cheek and kisses the side of his mouth gently. “I got something for you,” he murmurs.  
  
“Oh?” Yuuri asks, intrigued. “And what’s that?”  
  
Viktor produces a small black box from his coat pocket with the words _Cartier_ engraved in the velvet.  
  
Yuuri stares at the little box, his mouth slightly agape before he breathes, “Oh, _Viktor_ ,”  
  
Viktor tucks that same stray lock of hair behind Yuuri’s ear again and he’s got that grin on his face. He pulls the box open and presents the content to his beloved fiancé.  
  
It's a beautiful rose gold ring of three bands melded together. It gleams and glistens in the light, shining brightly as it reflects in Yuuri’s dark, hooded eyes. Yuuri’s cheeks are such a lovely shade of red that it takes everything in Viktor not to kiss him right then.  
  
“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri says again, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just so…. beautiful.” He brings his hand up to cover his mouth, and a small hiccup escapes him. “Oh no, no, I think I might cry. Actually I’m pretty sure I am.”  
  
Viktor lovingly degloves Yuuri’s hand much like his dove had done for him in the Barcelona cathedral three nights ago. He gently places the new ring on his trembling hand, taking the place of the much beloved but lost ring. “When we get married, we will switch these over to our left hands, yeah?”  
  
Yuuri sniffs and lets out a shaky sob. “Okay,” he agrees. “If you can make it until then, old man.”  
  
Viktor laughs obnoxiously, happily and airily. He swipes his thumb under the bridge of Yuuri’s glistening eyes and collects the moisture there. “Look,” Viktor says softly. “It’s got three bands so that if you lose one, you’ll still have two more.”  
  
Yuuri’s jovial laughter rings throughout the entire carriage before there is a soft _smack!_ sound and Viktor’s cry of “oww~” fades into the dark evening.  
  
\--------------------------------  
  
Back at the hotel, once they’re dressed down and warm, Viktor is inside the lavish bathroom lighting all the candles. “I want you to relax tonight, my love.” He had said with a devilish grin before he sauntered off.  
  
Yuuri is holding his hand before him, admiring the new ring. He had dearly loved his old one that came with the set, but the idea that Viktor had made a special trip earlier in the day to find the perfect ring for Yuuri really makes it so much more special. If he could, he’d travel to Barcelona and seek his ring in the sewers so he could have four rings instead.  
  
Viktor returns with a wide grin. “I’ve set up the bath for you, love. Why don’t you go and enjoy the view. It’s rather nice.”  
  
Yuuri’s gaze drifts from the ring to his most cherished partner standing next to the open door of the washroom. He gets up from his position on the bed and makes his way over to his awaiting lover.  
  
“Okay,” Yuuri says sweetly, seductively. “But I want you to join me.”  
  
Viktor stills.  
  
“ _Naked_ , please.” And with that, Yuuri disappears into the bathroom.  
  
Yuuri discards his remaining clothes and slinks into the heavenly warm water. He looks out through the large glass window and into the dark. The city lights are so bright it’s hard to see the stars as easily as in Hasetsu, but it’s such an enchanting sight Yuuri can’t bring himself to care.  
  
There is a gentle splashing of water and Yuuri realizes that Viktor is making his way into the bath, rearranging himself so that he’s pulling Yuuri’s back flush against his chest. He leans back leisurely and Yuuri goes with him.  
  
“Mmm,” Viktor sighs. “Warm water and a naked Yuuri. What a blissful way to end the night. Can it get much better?”  
  
Yuuri turns to face his gorgeous inamorato and cups his face. Yuuri’s eyes are slightly dilated and his hair is slicked back with water. Viktor’s breath hitches ever so slightly and he is moonstruck by how alluring Yuuri is right now.  
  
“I can think of a few ways to make it better,” Yuuri murmurs hotly. His eyes travel from Viktor’s bright eyes to his pale lips. He leans forward and presses their bodies together, seeking Viktor’s kiss.  
  
Viktor is pliant and wanting. He opens himself up and presses flush against his paramour, their slick bodies rocking together. Viktor whimpers into Yuuri’s heated kiss and entwines a hand into Yuuri’s ebony locks as the other slides down his lover’s back to grasp roughly at Yuuri’s ass. He swallows Yuuri’s appreciative moan and grinds their hips together.  
  
Yuuri notices with silent glee that they are both incredibly hard. Their cocks slide against each other with slick friction. Viktor is so revitalized and turned on that he unconsciously moves their bodies until Yuuri’s back is pressed into the glass and Viktor is between his legs, thrusting weakly to illicit that sinful, sweet pleasure he has come to messily several nights imagining. Yuuri throws his head back with a loud, unabashed groan and Viktor latches on, sucking desperately at the smooth skin.  
  
He bites _hard_ and Yuuri writhes in his grasp, meeting each of Viktor’s shallow thrusts with his own. Yuuri tangles his hand in fine, silver locks and pulls. Viktor shudders at the rough treatment and messily kisses his way back to Yuuri’s mouth.  
  
The glass window is cold against his burning skin, but Yuuri doesn’t care. All he knows is that if Viktor doesn’t stop rubbing and pressing their heated groins together and kneading his ass he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. Yuuri has never had a lover before and he’s not sure how long he can last, especially when the man he has been pining the last year for is ravishing him in the soft glow of the candlelight.  
  
“Viktor, please,” Yuuri begs. “Please, _please_.”  
  
“Yuuri, _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor moans in return. His thrusts have become even more erratic and Viktor slides a hand between them to press their lengths together and jerk them both off with loud, squelching noises.  
  
Yuuri cries in intense and unbridled pleasure. He shudders uncontrollably and he’s going to combust and overflow any minute. He can’t last much longer, not with Viktor fisting their cocks in such a desperate and rough way.  
  
“Oh god,” Viktor sobs in his ear. “Yuuri, I want fuck you so bad. I need you. Oh baby, _moya lyubov_ , you’re so sexy. You’re so—oh, _oohh_.”  
  
Yuuri thinks he might faint from hearing Viktor so hopelessly whimpering for him. It takes a minute for Yuuri to realize that the cries of pleasure are coming from him. Viktor is rambling nonsensically in his ear, reduced to his mother language in his hazy, voracious need.  
  
“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri mewls wantonly. It’s too much and there is a rapid fire feeling spreading through him and into his groin. “Yes, yes _, yes Viktor_ , I’m gonna come, _aah_. C-coming, I-I’m—,” With an intense convulsing shudder, Yuuri’s pleasure splashes between them in thick, hot ropes.  
  
In the blissful afterglow of his soul wrecking orgasm, Yuuri realizes that Viktor is rutting desperately against him, moaning broken and disjointed Russian in his shoulder. Yuuri pulls Viktor from his neck so he can hear the lascivious whines better and growls, “ _Vitya_ , I love you, _I love you_.”  
  
With his own strangled cry, Viktor comes with spasmodic, jerking motions. He thrusts weakly, riding out his orgasm and burying his nose back into Yuuri’s shoulder, sobbing brokenly. After a long moment, Viktor melts bonelessly against him.  
  
Somehow, they make it out of the bath and into the bed. Viktor had just about carried Yuuri from the bath after drying them off. He doesn’t bother to dress them.  
  
Viktor places Yuuri gently on the bed before winding his arms around the younger man’s waist and spooning him. Yuuri rolls his head back and revels in the immediate feel of Viktor’s sweet kisses on his neck. Viktor runs a hand down Yuuri’s side and caresses the inside of his thigh.  
  
“I can’t,” Yuuri breathes. “Viktor, please.”  
  
Viktor is already hard again, but stops at the pleading. “Okay, baby.”  
  
“Let’s go to sleep, yeah?” Yuuri sighs. “Can you do that?”  
  
Viktor turns Yuuri’s face to him for one last passionate kiss. “I would do anything for you, Yuuri.”  
  
Yuuri has never been so in love in his life.  



	6. A Burning in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor wakes Yuuri up, desperate for more of his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, chapter 5.5. 
> 
> I'm sorry, this is really just shameless smut.

In the middle of the night, Yuuri wakes from the heavy confines of sleep to the feeling of burning hands roaming his body. There’s a persistent nipping at his neck and one of the wandering hands slides down his belly to reach between his thighs to rub over his entire perineum.  
  
Yuuri opens one eye blearily to look around. It’s dark, but there’s a soft light from the television dancing across the walls. He’s facing toward the bedroom door with his back to the massive glass wall but he’s sure it’s still dark and probably very early in the morning. He feels Viktor’s hot body shift behind him, spooning against him with a soft grind.  
  
“Viktor….?” Yuuri murmurs, drowsy and confused.  
  
“Sorry,” Viktor breathes into his ear. His hand is still trapped between Yuuri’s thighs and after palming him gently, he squeezes the soft sac in his hand, running a thumb along the rugged skin there. The caress has Yuuri sighing in his arms.  
  
“What are you doing?” Comes a sleepy whisper, and Viktor buries his nose into Yuuri’s neck, inhaling the soft musky smell of Yuuri’s warmth. It’s so intoxicating and Viktor is drunk.  
  
“Sorry,” he says again. “I woke up and you’re naked in my arms. I couldn’t resist.”  
  
He hears Yuuri give a low and heady chuckle. Instead of scolding Viktor, Yuuri turns on his back towards his lover’s aroused form and opens his legs wide for Viktor’s straying hands. The palm that was fondling his sac slides up to wrap around his half-hard cock to give a firm tug. Yuuri arches from the touch and lets out a hard, throaty exhale.  
  
He’s already hot and bothered with only a few touches. He thinks hazily of how their mutual longing has culminated into unabashed horniness. After being the victims to ongoing sexual tension for months, Yuuri supposes they can indulge before they are both caught up in intense training and time constraints again.  
  
Viktor’s hand strays from his hardened length to run down his perineum again, this time pressing against his puckered entrance to rub gently. Yuuri keens at the touch, and it’s so pleasurable. They haven’t talked about going all the way yet, but Yuuri thinks in his hazy lust that’d he’d let Viktor fuck him senseless and into the sheets if that’s what he wanted. He’s touched himself there a few times thinking of his Russian mentor, and the idea of his lover’s thick fingers inside of him makes him almost want to come.  
  
Yuuri can tell that Viktor is incredibly turned on by the feel of Viktor's pulsing length pressed in his side. Viktor is rutting against him weakly, seemingly more concerned with Yuuri’s pleasure. The younger male is reminded of Viktor’s mesmerizing and husky voice confessing how much he wanted to fuck him in the bath earlier. Yuuri thinks that he may want it even more.  
  
“Are you going to make love to me, Viktor?” Yuuri asks as his own hand comes to caress over Viktor’s fondling grasp, his fingers pressing insistently against Viktor’s own, urging them to sink inside and spread him open. Viktor groans heatedly, licking messily into his ear.  
  
“ _Haa_ ,” Viktor whimpers. “I want to. I want to so bad.”  
  
“Then do it, please!” Yuuri pleads. He reaches across to grab Viktor’s rigid shaft, jerking forcefully. Viktor melts into a puddle at his side and pants wildly.  
  
“Not now,” Viktor begs. “Later. I don’t think I can last long enough, _oh_. I can’t last long enough to prepare you.”  
  
“I’ve prepared myself before,” Yuuri mumbles and he knows Viktor likes that because he jerks Yuuri’s head back by his hair and sucks on his neck hard with a growl. Yuuri is sure there are going to be marks all over him, and it sends a possessive thrill down his spine.  
  
Viktor’s hand withdrawals from massaging his entrance to insistently turn Yuuri back on his side. Yuuri whines at the loss of contact but revels in the feel of Viktor’s hands sliding along his body.  
  
There’s a sudden rush of cold air on his back when Yuuri realizes Viktor has leaned across the bed to pull something from the nightstand drawer. He turns his head just enough to see a bottle of lube popping open and Viktor coating his hand in the cool liquid. For a brief moment, Yuuri is thrilled at the idea that Viktor is going to finger him open and finally fuck him.  
  
Instead, Viktor presses against his back again and snakes his lubed hand around Yuuri’s waist to wrap around his cock. Yuuri convulses at the slick touch and _it’s amazing._ Viktor fists the aching member roughly and Yuuri melts into an incoherent mess.  
  
The wonderful touches stop momentarily and the sudden loss of contact again almost makes Yuuri sob in desperation. He doesn’t understand why Viktor keeps teasing him like this. He just wants to be fucked to completion.  
  
Viktor’s withdrawn hand comes to settle between Yuuri’s thighs again, and then he’s using a muscled arm to lift his lover’s leg up in the air slightly. In another minute, there’s cool lube poured between Yuuri’s thighs and he almost begs for some more friction.  
  
Soon after, Yuuri’s leg is placed gently down to bring his thighs together tightly. Viktor exhales hotly against his ear, licking the shell before his tongue is laving inside. It makes such a loud and obscene sound but Yuuri loves it. Viktor’s unbearably hard cock slips between Yuuri’s wet thighs as he moans with reckless abandon and begins to hump between Yuuri’s slick skin mercilessly, their bodies slapping together at the forceful thrusting.  
  
Yuuri mewls at the feeling of Viktor’s cock pistoning in and out under his balls. Yuuri slides a hand down his stomach and between his thighs, allowing Viktor’s swollen head to brush against his flat palm every time. He’s so desperate to force more wanton noises from Viktor’s throat he doesn’t even care about his own pleasure at the moment.  
  
Viktor is slapping against him so hard Yuuri’s body is rocking at the force. It’s so, so good. Viktor whines pitifully into his ear, sucking and licking the skin there again. It doesn’t take long for the older man to begin to come apart. He’s already got a wet hand back on Yuuri’s neglected member, jerking erratically as his hips begin to falter in their fast and brutal force.  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Viktor manages to croak out. “Can I come? Can I come, baby?”  
  
“Y-yeah,” Yuuri gasps. “Please, I need it. I need you to come for me.” At that, Viktor gives a rumbling growl and climaxes with one last brutal thrust into Yuuri’s heated thighs.  
  
Yuuri is still horribly turned on, but he loves the way Viktor buries himself in his neck, panting hard. He can feel Viktor’s pleasure seeping down one of his thighs and onto the bed, but he doesn’t care. It was totally worth it.  
  
He's taken by surprise when his lover heaves himself up and straddles Yuuri. Viktor leans down to give him a messy, sloppy kiss before he moves to suck on Yuuri’s neck briefly. Hands come to caress Yuuri’s sides and it’s ticklish for a second before Viktor’s sliding down his body, a tongue licking against one of his nipples.  
  
Yuuri keens at the stimulation and arches into the touch. There is hard suction on the nub and he looks down to see Viktor kneading the other roughly. Yuuri wants to beg Viktor to touch his neglected member but he can’t find the strength to speak right now.  
  
Satisfied that both nipples are perky and abused, Viktor descends further down to suck and lick at Yuuri’s belly button. His hands roam over the stretch marks on his dove’s belly and love handles. Viktor breathes deep and whispers, “Beautiful. This body is so perfect for me.” His tongue is back in Yuuri’s navel not even a second later.  
  
Yuuri is so frustratingly close he has to stop himself from pulling Viktor’s hair hard and telling him to finish jerking him off right now. He furrows his eyebrows and tries to muster his most impatient look. Viktor’s lusty gaze roams from Yuuri’s stretchmarks and plump thighs to look into dark brown eyes with just a hint of desperation. He gets the point.  
  
Viktor finally, _finally_ reaches to caress Yuuri’s aching erection and his sweet lover throws his head back at the force of it. Viktor can’t help himself, and lurches forward to take Yuuri’s slick length in his mouth in one fatal swoop.  
  
Yuuri sobs loudly and Viktor relishes the salty taste of his sweetheart’s weeping precum. He laves his tongue under and up the shaft, using forceful suction on the slick head. It elicits a heavy and quivering cry from his beloved.  
  
It only takes another minute of hard sucking and throat fucking for Yuuri to become a desperate and writhing mess in his arms. Yuuri is mewling so hard Viktor's worried he may break him.  
  
Yuuri continues to buck up into the heat of Viktor’s sinful mouth, and he’s so lost he can’t open his eyes. He can only thrust weakly up and into that blissful heat.  
  
“Viktor, I’m going to— I’m going to c-come,” he whimpers out as a weak warning. Viktor makes a humming noise and the vibrations tingle across Yuuri’s swollen pleasure. He realizes that Viktor isn’t going to pull off, and with one final arch into his lover’s mouth, he comes to a brutal orgasm ripping through him.  
  
Yuuri collapses back on the bed and pants heavily. He’s never in his entire life had an orgasm like that, and it has wrecked him. He hears Viktor shuffle from his place between Yuuri’s legs with an audible gulp.  
  
The young Japanese skater watches as Viktor disappears into the bathroom. Yuuri’s gaze follows up the wall and to the ceiling before he closes his eyes in euphoric and exhausted bliss. He could get addicted to this.  
  
There’s a dip in the bed and Viktor’s mouth is on him, his tongue forcing itself in his mouth. Yuuri expects there to be the salty taste of his semen, but instead there’s only a minty freshness. Yuuri pulls away from the kiss to look at Viktor with a sly smile. “You brushed your teeth?”  
  
“Yeah,” Viktor chuckles. “I wanted to kiss you.” He clambers back into bed to curl into Yuuri’s side. “Was it good?”  
  
“ _Good_?” Yuuri chokes. “It was freaking amazing.”  
  
He hears Viktor give another hearty and amused chuckle. “Sorry about waking you up.”  
  
Yuuri laughs quietly before he strokes Victor’s ashen locks out of his face so he can peer into those icy eyes. “Don’t be,” Yuuri whispers. “Please wake me up like this more often.”  
  
Viktor gives a sweet smile and small nod, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. They cuddle into their shared embrace, weary from their heated love making. Yuuri wishes the morning would never come.


	7. Storm Makes Way for Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye on their plans for the future. Yuuri finally stands up for himself, Viktor acts every part of the tragic Greek hero he is, and Yuri P. just wants to be left alone in another country far away from them.

Viktor wakes before Yuuri and gently and silently untangles himself from their sleeping embrace. He ambles over to enjoy the view of Paris encompassed in the early sunrise. The floor is cold against his feet and he wanders into the bathroom to grab a robe.  
  
When he returns, he glances over Yuuri’s sleeping form. His dove is lying on his stomach, head turned to the side. His back and the barest hint of his hips are exposed, the sheet covering the rest of his voluptuous body. His skin looks so smooth and soft that Viktor is almost unconsciously led to the bedside, eager to kiss every small freckle visible. He can’t bear to rouse his sleeping angel when he looks so peaceful like this; Yuuri really is just so beautiful.  
  
Viktor breaks out his laptop and buys morning tickets out to Japan. It doesn’t take much time, and afterwards he gets dressed in some jogging pants and a loose jacket. He kisses Yuuri’s disheveled hair affectionately, running a finger along his plump cheek. Yuuri stirs slightly, gives a sleepy sigh and stills, lost in his dreams. Viktor hopes they are about him.  
  
The river is only a few blocks away and Viktor takes a long-overdue jog there. The Seine glistens and sparkles in the soft light, pure and clear. There’s a man on the riverbank fishing, and there’s a few other runners out and about. A slight misty fog rises from the water and into the morning.  
  
Viktor stops to catch his breath and leans against the stone railing. It’s 7 AM in Paris, which makes it 9 AM in St. Petersburg. He pulls his phone out and presses his contact number for Yakov, a picture of his grumpy face from last year flashing up.  
  
It rings a few times before a gruff voice booms in his ear, “ _Vitya? What are you calling for? It better not be something stupid, I’m busy_.”  
  
“Miss you too, pops.” Viktor chirps. He hears a strangled noise on the other line and smiles. Yakov always hated that nickname. “How’s Yuri?”  
  
“ _He’s actually doing some work, unlike you. Yuri says you’re piddling around Barcelona with Yuuri, doing nothing. He’s got Japanese nationals coming up, you shouldn’t be wasting your time having romantic adventures in Spain_.” Viktor can’t suppress a fond smile at Yakov’s chiding. It may be nagging but it shows that he has truly come to care for Yuuri. Nothing warms his heart more than knowing this.  
  
“We’re actually in Paris right now,” Viktor offers. Yavok lets out an exasperated sigh and says nothing. “If you used Instagram you’d know that.”  
  
“Anyway,” Viktor continues. “We’re going back to Japan to start training today. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ve decided to come back and compete one more time. I think I’ll go ahead and finish the rest of this season.” Viktor waits, but there’s nothing but silence on the other end. He continues. “So I’ll be back in Russia by the end of this week. I’m going to compete in nationals—“  
  
“ _Vitya_ ,” comes an incredulous croak. “ _You can’t be serious_.”  
  
“Oh? And why not?”  
  
“ _You can’t just come back in the middle of the season_!” Yakov groans. “ _Are you insane? No, you’re selfish. You are without a doubt one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met_.”  
  
“What? Why would you say that?” Viktor whines, and pouts. He acknowledges Yakov can’t see it, but he knows Viktor well enough to probably imagine it in his mind.  
  
“ _Even if the ISU lets you compete in nationals, you don’t have any new routines. Do you plan to skate your program from last year? You won’t win with that._ ”  
  
“They _will_ let me compete,” Viktor replies smugly. “They’d be foolish not to. I’ve won the world championship five times; I doubt they’ll turn me down. Besides, I’ve made crazier requests than this before.” There’s only silence on the other end and Viktor _knows_ Yakov knows he's right. “And by the way, I _do_ have some new routines. I haven’t revealed them to anyone yet, but what do you think I’ve been doing for the past half year? _Piddling_ , as you so call it? I’ve had a private rink in Japan to myself for months now. I may be a little rusty but I think with my skills I can still medal. I don’t know if I can win against Yuri, though. Well, at this moment I probably can’t.”  
  
“ _Well,_ ” Yakov grumbles on the other end. “ _At least you’re realistic about your competition, if nothing else._ ”  
  
“So, Yakov,” Viktor begins softly. He hoists himself up to sit on the cold stone of the bridge, overlooking the gentle river. A young cyclist pedals by him and greets him cheerfully. “Will you take me back?”  
  
There’s another long pause and Viktor fears briefly that he really may have screwed up this time. “ _Yes_ ,” Yakov breathes. “ _I’m just glad you’re coming home._ ”  
  
Viktor almost chokes, suddenly overcome with emotion. He gives a long shaky breath and sighs, “Me too.”  
  
The morning sun shines brightly down on him.  
  
By the time Viktor returns to the hotel, Yuuri is up and dressed. He’s already packed their belongings and is currently in the kitchenette cooking up some tamagoyaki. It smells heavenly.  
  
He smiles happily when he sees Viktor and it doesn’t take long for the Russian man to have his Japanese dove back in his arms. He plants random, sporadic kisses all over Yuuri’s face and his darling giggles at the tickling sensation. Yuuri pushes gently against Viktor to separate them.  
  
“Oh, you’re all sweaty. Did you go running?” Yuuri asks. “You should have woken me up, I would have joined you.”  
  
“No, no,” Viktor says, leaning against the counter and admiring the view before him. Yuuri returns to the stove to finish up his cooking escapade, messy hair everywhere and in an old raggedy shirt. He’s still beautiful. “You looked like a fallen angel that landed in my bed. I couldn’t possibly wake you.”  
  
Viktor can practically hear Yuuri’s eye roll and it makes him laugh a little. This domestic bliss is ruining him. He imagines Yuuri in his apartment in St. Petersburg, cooking him breakfast in skintight shorts and one of Viktor’s white button-ups instead. Actually, if he’s lucky, Yuuri might just be naked.  
  
“Hello?” Yuuri asks, peering into Viktor’s face. The older man snaps out of his trance and gives a goofy grin. “Anyone home? I said breakfast is ready.”  
  
Viktor follows Yuuri out of the kitchen like a lovesick puppy and twitters, “Sorry, I was imagining you naked.”  
  
His lover makes a pfft noise and gives him _that_ _look_. Viktor’s mischievous grin widens even more and he takes a seat opposite Yuuri. He hands the other cutlery across the table and begins his assault on his love’s heartfelt cooking.  
  
Yuuri makes a face and mutters, “Ugh, over-cooked. I’ll have to work on this.”  
  
“I think it’s perfect,” Viktor replies, and Yuuri blushes a little. It pleases him to know that Yuuri is slowly getting used to Viktor’s frank compliments. They may be flirty but they are always genuine.  
  
“How was the run?” Yuuri asks as he’s cutting up his egg. “It looks like a pretty day outside.”  
  
“Oh yes, it is.” Viktor replies nonchalantly. “Actually, I called Yakov and told him I’m going back to Russia later this week to compete in the Russian nationals.”  
  
Yuuri stops eating mid-chew and looks up. He looks surprised, maybe even shocked. Viktor wonders what about this news is surprising all the loved people in his life.  
  
“Now?” Yuuri blurts out, dropping his fork. “Wait, like, this year’s nationals?” He pales and Viktor is beginning to wonder if he’s making a mistake after all.  
  
“Yes?” Viktor says cautiously. “I’m sorry, is that not what you wanted?”  
  
“I mean, y-yes? I just,” Yuuri is shaking his head, a questioning look haunting his eyes. “I thought you meant next season. I thought you wanted to continue being my coach for the rest of this season?”  
  
“I do, _solnyshko_!” Viktor cries, breakfast forgotten. “I’ve thought about it very deeply the last few days. The only concurrent tournaments between us will be nationals and eventually, the World Championship.”  
  
His lover looks flabbergasted at the news and gapes openly. Viktor regrets calling and talking to Yakov before addressing these issues with Yuuri. He’d been excited and had gotten ahead of himself, apparently. He’d also just assumed Yuuri would go along with his whims like he usually does. It never occurred to him that there may be miscommunication going on between them regarding the future.  
  
“I just,” Yuuri says weakly. “I just don’t know if I can do nationals without you.”  
  
It breaks Viktor’s heart. “Okay,” Viktor says. “Nevermind, I won’t do it. I’ll call Yakov right now and tell him that I’ve changed my mind—“  
  
“NO!” Yuuri all but screams. Viktor leans back, surprised. “No, I mean! I want you to do this! If this is what you want, I want it too. We can do this, Viktor.” Yuuri leans across the table, reaching for his lover’s hand. Viktor gives it to him immediately and Yuuri brings it up to his lips to kiss the golden band. “We will work through this together.”  
  
Viktor’s heart comes back together and he’s up and next to Yuuri in a second. He kneels on the floor and buries his head in Yuuri’s warm lap. “I love you, Yuuri.” He whispers.  
  
Yuuri’s calloused hand carding through his hair allows a sense of peace to wash through him. He’s feels so blessed.  
  
\-------------------------------------------  
  
The flight back to Hasetsu is long and miserable. Yuuri had been adamant about having the aisle seat for some reason, so Viktor was left gazing out at the passing clouds for eleven hours while Yuuri intermittently dozed next to him. At some point, Yuuri’s head fell onto Viktor’s shoulder with his cute and chubby face on full display. It was the best hour and half of the entire flight.  
  
They are both exhausted and jet-lagged by the time they venture into the busy Japanese night. Yuuri had called Mari and told her they’d be home late and not to stay up and wait for them. It takes another hour and a half on the subway to get from the closest city airport to Hasetsu, and by the time they’re finally in the quiet town, they just want to get home and into bed. They’d picked dinner up on the way back into town.  
  
When they walk into the inn it’s dark and vacant, everyone most likely asleep. It’s pretty late into the night and there’s no reason to be up at this hour, so they both agree it’s best to go ahead and get some rest so they can start the next morning early. They have a very limited amount of time before their respective tournaments.  
  
Viktor had explained to Yuuri on the plane that they’d only be apart for nationals and that it would be a good idea to bring Mari and Minako-sensei with him in Viktor’s absence. He also mentioned that he would talk with Yakov in regards to finding a close friend who could coach Yuuri through nationals at Viktor’s behest, and that he knew this gentleman so well he trusted him almost as much as Yakov.  
  
He’d lamented that they couldn’t be together, or that Yakov couldn’t replace Viktor and be at two places at once. “I should just make a robot clone of myself,” Viktor had mused. Yuuri shook his head in disbelief and asked if he would program it to clean and cook. Viktor didn’t think that was funny.  
  
After dropping his bags off in his room and coddling Makkachin in his arms like a baby, Viktor finds Yuuri in the den grabbing a drink. His katsudon smiles warmly and leans up to kiss Viktor sweetly on the mouth. Viktor is tired, but he could very well stay up another hour and kiss Yuuri into the pillows. He’s gone almost thirteen hours without Yuuri’s hot mouth on him, and it has been _excruciating_.  
  
Yuuri caresses his cheek and murmurs a good night. Viktor is lovestruck and follows him down the hall and to Yuuri’s bedroom door.  
  
Yuuri pauses and turns to give Viktor a curious look. “Yes? Do you want another kiss?” He asks.  
  
“Of course,” Viktor replies immediately. Yuuri nods his head and leans up to give him one more peck. They part and Viktor stares expectedly at Yuuri, wondering why his darling is stalling. He’s ready to get into bed and wrap his katsudon in a loving embrace.  
  
“Uhm,” Yuuri hums inquisitively. “What are you doing?”  
  
Viktor’s silly smile fades slightly. “Waiting to go to bed with you?”  
  
There’s a pause in the air, then Yuuri flushes and his eyes grow unbelievably wide. “W-wait, you want to sleep in my room tonight?”  
  
Viktor is at a complete loss for words. He’s shocked by Yuuri’s shock. They’ve literally spent the last week in the other’s arms, so why should this night be any different? Viktor is almost 100% positive he can’t sleep without being curled into Yuuri’s side and musky smell now that he’s had a taste of it. And Viktor’s appetite for Yuuri is insatiable.   
  
“Yes??” Viktor can only cry in return.  
  
“ _Shhh_ ,” Yuuri hisses. Viktor realizes that he’s being a little loud, but he’s just so… confused? Yuuri flails his arms in a panicked motion. “I’m—I’m sorry, but I just…” He pauses, fumbling with what he wants to say. “I’m just not ready to let you in yet.”  
  
Viktor is stunned. He recollects in the recesses of his mind that Yuuri has always denied Viktor access to his room (except the one time he barged in to whisk Yuuri away to the beach), but he’d thought after their multiple heated make out sessions and two intense sexual encounters that sleeping together (innocently) in Yuuri’s room wouldn’t be an issue.  
  
Apparently he was wrong.  
  
“Yuuri,” Viktor pleads, hushed but despaired. “I can’t possibly sleep without you!”  
  
His sweet fiancé gives him a disbelieving look and whispers, “You slept without me for twenty-eight years, I think you’ll be fine.”  
  
Viktor feels absolutely dejected. He reels and leans against the wall, feeling the earth crumbling beneath his feet, ready to pull him into a dark and ceaseless abyss. Yuuri has dealt him the ultimate deathblow, and he sinks down to the floor and transforms into a forlorn husk of who he once was.  
  
“ _Oh my god_ ,” he hears Yuuri wheeze above him. “Are you serious? Stop being so dramatic!”  
  
“You’ve killed me, Yuuri.” Viktor groans, anguished. “You’ve shot into my heart and destroyed my fragile soul. How can my sweet angel deny me like this? You even aged me up, I’m still twenty-seven!!” He throws an arm over his pained expression for added emphasis.  
  
It has no effect.  
  
“Goodnight Viktor,” Yuuri utters softly. “Go to your room and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, Yuuri opens the door and slips into his room, shutting Viktor out.  
  
Viktor lies in the floor, a dispirited, pining mess in front of Yuuri’s room. It takes him 15 minutes of brooding to finally pick himself up and throw himself into his own room. Makkachin gets in bed with him, licking his face with affection and quite possibly pity. Viktor stares at the ceiling blankly.  
  
It takes him two and a half hours to fall asleep.  
**  
** \----------------------------------------- **  
  
** The next morning, Yuuri can’t help but notice Viktor doesn’t look very well rested. The handsome Russian appears slightly frazzled and disheveled, as though he’d dragged himself out of bed that morning with great reluctance. Unbeknownst to Yuuri, that’s exactly what had happened.  
  
Viktor had finally found sleep in the late morning, only to wake up several times during the night after dreaming of Yuuri. He felt pathetic to pine desperately for someone literally thirty feet away, but the idea that Yuuri was in the same house, asleep, not in his arms: a complete and utter nightmare.  
  
They went on an early morning run after breakfast, stopping at the beach to look over the cold winter ocean. Neither had a whole lot to say, and it was becoming more evident that both were tense for the same reason although neither spoke of it.  
  
At practice, Viktor helps Yuuri run over his routines again and begins asking questions regarding Yuuri’s thoughts on any future programs he may want to do after nationals.  
  
“I’ve thought about it,” Yuuri mumbles against the rink wall, Viktor standing before him on the other side. “I don’t know, what about you? If you’re going to nationals, are you going to do your same program from last year?”  
  
“My dear Yuuri **,”** Viktor scoffs with mock offense. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last half a year? In my spare time, I’ve been choreographing other programs, one for me and another for you. I haven't perfected them yet, though. There aren’t many words in the world that can describe my love for you, so only the most heartfelt of music can fit both programs. I think I've got mine figured out, though.” Viktor winks enthusiastically.  
  
The romantic sentiment is lost on Yuuri. He’s currently in a clouded funk concerning his separation from Viktor during nationals. He knows Viktor said he would find someone to fill in the short void, but honestly, no one could replace Viktor’s spot in Yuuri’s life… even for such a short period. In Paris, however, Yuuri had made the promise to Viktor that they would work this out. Yuuri had every intention in fulfilling those words.  
  
Yuuri is brought back to the present when Viktor’s hand comes to rest on Yuuri’s own. His icy stare is soft and loving, and he tilts Yuuri’s chin slightly so he can kiss him tenderly.  
  
Yuuri feels warmth radiate through him and suddenly he feels the need to clear the rink wall between them. Before he can act, Viktor straightens up and clears his throat.  
  
“I must say, I am glad you mentioned my program, Yuuri.” Viktor smiles brightly. “I am leaving Saturday night to fly back to Russia. I’ll run through my program a few days before the tournament with Yakov’s supervision. I’m not expecting gold and I’m pretty sure coach isn’t either, but I think I can still medal. Maybe…” Viktor scratches at his chin thoughtfully and Yuuri feels anxious for him.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll do great, Viktor, ” Yuuri says sweetly. “I can’t imagine you winning anything other than gold.”  
  
Viktor hums appreciatively and nods his head. “As much as it endears me to hear you say that, my darling, choreographing a program and running through it seriously a few times on my own is by no means nearly as much work as any of you have done this past year. But, If I don’t take this chance at nationals, I won’t be able to compete against you and Yuri at Worlds.”  
  
Yuuri stills. He hadn’t even considered there would be a time and day when Yuuri and Viktor were on ice and against one another. The thought is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Although, Yuuri is pretty sure there is no way he could ever defeat Viktor, on or off the ice.  
  
Viktor leans close, bridging the gap between them. He places a kiss to Yuuri’s ear and whispers, “Do you want me to run through it for you, _moya lyubov_?”  
  
Yuuri’s never wanted anything more in his life.  
  
He takes a seat and watches as Viktor gears up. He grabs Yuuri’s wrist and kisses the rapid pulse there, saying “Keep in mind, my Yuuri, this entire piece is for you.”  
  
Yuuri feels breathless already. Viktor skates over to the stereo and hooks his phone up, going through it briefly. The piano and violins begin softly and sync into a somber harmony, enchanting as Viktor falls back and sways, his eyes locked with Yuuri’s.  
  
To some, it may only be four and a half minutes of gliding, complicated jumps and seductive twisting, but to Yuuri, it is an enthralling dance that lasts an eternity. In the shadowy cast of early morning, steams of light filtering through the windows of Ice Castle, the living legend Viktor Nikiforov dances for Katsuki Yuuri with all of his heart on display.  
  
At the end, the boom of the bass gives one last time and Viktor stops, panting slightly. He hasn’t gone through this routine with intense vigor or an audience before, and there is a slight and small sense of apprehension in his core. Usually, Yakov finds one hundred things he doesn’t like immediately. Sometimes Viktor would change it, sometimes he wouldn’t, and most often if he did change it he didn’t follow Yakov’s advice—at all. This obstinacy has won him five World Championships and five Grand Prix medals, but those pale in comparison to Yuuri’s opinion of him now.  
  
Viktor doesn’t have a chance to dwell on the matter any longer because Yuuri is already on him in the middle of the rink, arms thrown around his shoulders and hugging him tight. It’s so sudden Viktor almost falls over, but catches himself, holding onto Yuuri tightly. His dove draws back with glossy eyes and Viktor is in awe at how much Yuuri molds him into a lovesick fool.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Yuuri sniffles. “It’s beautiful and you’re beautiful and I love you so much and… that was for me?”  
  
“Yes,” Viktor breathes quietly between them. “Everything I do from now on will be for you, Yuuri. I need you to remember that.”  
  
Yuuri can’t seem to bring himself to say anything in return, only sniffles and tugs Viktor back into his embrace. Viktor buries his nose into Yuuri’s thick locks and murmurs, “It’s an original orchestral piece from a composer friend in the Czech Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra. We named it ‘Moje Zlato.’”   
  
Yuuri pulls back to look at Viktor again, this time overwhelmed. Viktor gives a cheeky smile and kisses Yuuri’s nose, “It means ‘My gold’ in Czech”.  
  
The young Japanese skater nearly faints again, but this time, Viktor catches him.  
  
\------------------------------------------  
  
The rest of the afternoon flies away into a busy blur. Viktor convinces Yuuri to go through their duet version of Stammi Viccino they had practiced for fun several times in the past, this time adamant that they do it seriously. Yuuri is confused because right now they should be training for their individual national competitions, but appeases Viktor anyway. Viktor corrects Yuuri several times and at one point accidentally drops Yuuri on the ice when he’s a little heavier than Viktor had anticipated.  
  
“I guess it’s all that eating-out we did when we were on vacation,” Viktor muses, looking over Yuuri’s grounded form.  
  
Yuuri shoots him a glare from the ice and doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Let’s try it again, this time we will—“  
  
“No,” Yuuri says forcefully. They’ve been here since morning and it’s already almost dusk. Viktor is obliviously insensitive and Yuuri is apparently fatter than he was two weeks ago. He doesn’t want to be here right now. “Let’s go home”.  
  
Viktor looks as though he wants to protest, but doesn’t. Instead, they silently both dress down and make their way into the bitter Japanese night. They bundle up side by and side and make the trek back to the inn.  
  
There, Hiroko and Mari have already set a table for them amongst the regular guests. They all eat merrily and talk about their respective days. After they’re done, Hiroko takes the dishes and Mari goes outside to smoke.  
  
Makkachin pads up to Yuuri and Viktor. Yuuri is too busy watching his father speak with some drunk guests at the table closest to the TV, a fond grin on his face. His dad is knocking back some drinks and is already getting a little rowdy, even though it’s a Wednesday night.  
  
Viktor slides a fresh cup of tea to Yuuri and laughs as Makkachin jumps into his lap. “I bet you’re going to miss Yuuri as much as I will when we go back to St. Petersburg, aren’t you, Makkachin?”  
  
Yuuri watches Viktor pamper the dog lovingly and leans back from the table, full and sated. Viktor rubs behind Makkachin’s ears and the poodle is panting heavily and happily. Really, it’s a picture perfect moment.  
  
Until Yuuri realizes what Viktor’s just said. “Uhm, Viktor?” He waits for his lover to turn his attention to him. “When is Makkachin going back to Russia?”  
  
Viktor looks at him with that same passive smile and says in his famous cheery voice, “With me at the end of the week. I’m going to take my stuff back to the apartment too since I’ll be training in Russia for the duration of the season. It’ll be grueling without you for the next two weeks. Well, we’ll be together soon enough.”  
  
Yuuri says nothing, just stares. Behind him, Toshiya has his tie wrapped around his eyes as he swings on the table with the other rowdy guests. He knocks over a bottle of beer and its shatters on the ground, in tune with Yuuri’s heart.  
  
That night, Viktor follows Yuuri back to his bedroom door again.  
  
“Can I—“  
  
“No,” Yuuri says abruptly. “Good night.”  
  
When the door shuts, Viktor stares after Yuuri longingly, blanket in hand. Makkachin whines next to his feet.  
  
“Good night,” Viktor grumbles, and resigns himself to another lonely and probably sleepless night by himself.  
  
It isn’t until he’s alone with Makkachin that he realizes with a start they didn’t even kiss goodnight. It crushes him.  
  
\----------------------------------- **  
  
** Yuuri is by no means an ill-tempered person, but when he awakens, he’s not very pleased. He starts the morning off heading to Ice Castle before Viktor has even roused, hitting the gym before gearing up for some solitary practice in the empty rink. Viktor shows up about an hour later, looking ruffled and upset.  
  
“Why did you leave without me, Yuuri?” He asks as he’s putting on his skates. He looks up for an answer, but Yuuri has already skated away.  
  
Viktor reluctantly blows it off as early morning tiredness but it becomes evident partway through the day that Yuuri is not in good spirits. He answers Viktor curtly, stiffens at his touches and seems completely unreceptive to any criticism or praise. He’s like a stone wall that hardens more with every interaction between them.  
  
Instead of adding fuel to the fire, Viktor backs off and allows Yuuri to work through whatever it is that’s distressing him. Viktor isn’t looking forward to the separation either, and he’s dreading the entire two weeks ahead of him. If he can’t sleep with Yuuri in the same house, he’s completely unsure how he’s going to do it without him in the same country.  
  
_We can talk and work it out later this evening,_ Viktor thinks hopefully. He’s ready to put an ease on the tension that’s been building up the last few days. **  
  
** Meanwhile, Yuuri is whirling at the realization that there’s only a few more days until Viktor is gone and Makkachin goes with him. To be completely honest, Yuuri is at a loss.  
  
Is this Viktor saying he needs space? He’s pretty sure Viktor agreed to continue being his coach for the rest of this season, so why is he leaving partway through? Yuuri could have believed he was coming back to Japan after Russian nationals if Viktor wasn’t taking his belongings and his beloved poodle with him.  
  
Yuuri doesn’t know where to begin. He had thought Viktor’s promises in Barcelona and Paris were testaments to his love for the fragile man, interwoven in his vow to stay by the less experienced skater’s side. Yuuri, with his heart of glass, is well aware that the coveted and adored athlete is flighty and fickle at times, but Viktor had made a promise. Surely he wouldn’t break it this easily?  
  
Then young Yuri’s angry but hurt face pops into the forefront of his mind, devastated that Viktor had forgotten their promise. Viktor had blown Yuri off with little to no remorse and had come to Japan to train the failed and withdrawn skater without so little as a goodbye.  
  
This must be karma, then.  
  
Yuuri is so distracted by his thoughts he slams into the rink wall. He catches his balance and holds himself up, small droplets of blood dripping down his chin and onto the cool ice. There’s a mixture of clear crystal to the crimson color and Yuuri realizes belatedly that it’s his own tears. He doesn’t even care when Viktor’s concerned hands are on him, wiping away the blood. **  
  
** In the locker room, he grabs his phone and dials Phichit’s number. He’s got an idea.  
  
\----------------------------------------------- **  
  
** When they get home in the midevening to sit under the kotatsu and laze about, Yuuri looks across the table to an unaware Viktor and says simply, “Celestino is going to come to Japan to take your place as my coach during nationals.”  
  
Yuuri takes a swig of his tea and waits. Viktor’s attention on the TV falters and he’s looking up to Yuuri with an unreadable expression on his face. Yuuri has come to know this look as his lover’s reflexive facade when he’s trapped in his own thoughts. Yuuri knows Viktor is thinking deeply inside the confines of his mind at the news, and it pleases him slightly to be able to instill the same sense of dumbfounded confusion that his mentor had pounded into Yuuri the day before. If Viktor was going to make all these decisions without Yuuri, then Yuuri was going to do the same in return.  
  
“Y-you,” Viktor exhales. “You called him?” **  
  
** “Yeah,” Yuuri replies, a casual lilt to his voice. “I asked him to come coach me during nationals in return for a free week here at the onsen. Phichit’s going to come too and help me get ready.”  
  
Viktor visibly blanches, his alabaster skin now a sickly pallor. Not only was Celestino going to replace him during Yuuri’s nationals, he was going to bask in an onsen naked with _his_ raven-haired beauty for a week. The worst part, Viktor would be stranded in Russia with a balding Yakov and an angry fifteen-year-old.  
  
“ _Solnyshko_ ,” Viktor rasps. “You… you can’t be serious, right? Is this a joke?”  
  
Viktor looks absolutely obtunded. Yuuri is truly surprised that the news is so incredibly perturbing to his beloved partner. After all, Viktor was the one who wanted to complete the season halfway through, and it was unfair to make Yuuri go through nationals with someone he didn’t know well when he had someone he trusted agreeing to go with him. The younger male had expected a pouty expression and a little whining, but the look on Viktor’s face appears to be the beginnings of pure despair.  
  
Yuuri’s not exactly pleased with the option either. He doesn’t like the idea that Viktor’s waiting arms won’t be there when he returns to the kiss & cry, but if it’s worth Viktor showing his love on ice once more, he would do it over and over, time and time again.  
  
Yuuri’s feelings must not be getting across to Viktor because his paled lover hisses, “I refuse to allow this. I don’t approve of this at all.” He leans in close, breeching Yuuri’s personal space as he cups his impish angel’s chin in his hand. “ _I’m_ your coach now, Yuuri. You need to leave Celestino in the past, where he belongs.”  
  
Yuuri is immediately reminded of a time before their romantic relationship where the mention of Celestino’s name had made Viktor act odd and pouty. Considering Celestino was much older than Yuuri and most likely heterosexual, Viktor’s possessiveness was completely unfounded, and truthfully, absolutely ridiculous.  
  
“Excuse me?” Yuuri breathes disbelievingly between them. “Are you… _jealous_?”  
  
Viktor’s eyes widen and there’s a flash of an epiphany in them before he pulls back, leaning to the side to turn away from Yuuri. There’s a look on his face that Yuuri can’t place, it’s too uncommon. Viktor never looks like this.

“Yeah,” Viktor says, thick and gruff. He turns back to face Yuuri once more, clearly very agitated. “I am jealous, and I don’t think you’re being very fair to me.”  
  
“ _Fair to you_?” Yuuri cries. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re the one who expects me to go to nationals without a coach while you’re in Russia with Yakov by your side! That’s kind of messed up, Viktor. I’m trying to think of a solution that is the best for the both of us but you don’t seem like you are interested in any kind of compromise!”  
  
Viktor makes a low guttural sound and seethes, “Well you could have at least discussed it with me before you went and made a decision all on your own with no regard for my feelings!”  
  
Yuuri gawps, then laughs out sardonically “ _Really_? Coming from you, who called Yakov while I was asleep in a Paris hotel to announce you’re returning half-way through the season? You didn’t even make the call _in the room_ , Viktor. It’s obvious you didn’t want me to hear it.”  
  
“That’s not true, Yuuri.” Viktor says darkly. “You were sleeping soundly and I thought what I meant was obvious. I’m still not sure how you took it any other way. I was very clear about what I wanted.”  
  
Yuuri scoffs _hard_ and throws his hands in the air. “Clear? You’re never clear about what you want. Almost everything you say is cryptic and really, I don’t think _you_ even know what you want most of the time. You’re so used to having everyone go along with all your bizarre notions you’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually make selfless and adult decisions.”  
  
It’s a low blow and Yuuri knows it. He can see Viktor’s icy orbs turning into a murky cascade, unhinged anger beginning to seep through them. He turns from Yuuri again, fists clenched at his sides. He has to grind his teeth together to keep from saying something he will regret later. He has a million different retorts he could manifest in an instant, but it would be unwise to do so. A _very_ adult decision if you ask him.  
  
Yuuri is obviously very pissed too, although it’s a look and attitude Viktor is completely unfamiliar with. His sweet angel never gets mad, at least not in a way that it shows. Viktor is so caught up in his own feelings of anger and confusion that he’s unsure exactly how to go about bridging this rift between them. This is completely new territory for their relationship.  
  
“You’re acting like a complete idiot right now, Yuuri.” Viktor manages through his teeth. “I thought you were better than this.”  
  
“Viktor,” Yuuri says lowly in return. “I could never hate you, but right now, I don’t like you very much.”  
  
Viktor is floored, flabbergasted. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this? “ _Oh_?” Viktor snarls, his own voice unrecognizable to him in his belligerence. “Is that so? Well, if you don’t like me or want me there’s a hundred thousand people desperate to take your place. I can have anyone I want, but what about _you_? You didn’t even have anyone before me.”  
  
Yuuri’s narrowed, annoyed glare melts into one of pure shock and it doesn’t take ten seconds for Viktor to realize what he has said. The stunned expression on Yuuri’s face wavers until his eyes are crinkling at the edges and he’s biting his lower lip between his teeth, his face quickly becoming devoid of all color. There is intense hurt plastered all over his features. He looks like he’s about to break.  
  
Viktor sputters, regret immediately washing through him in thick, crushing waves. He’s got to go back in time and take those words away. He’s worked so hard to show Yuuri that he is the bright sun of his life, the center of gravity in his universe.  
  
“Yuuri, oh god—” Viktor begins, distraught. When Yuuri gets up to leave, Viktor jumps up behind him. He grasps Yuuri’s wrist desperately.  
  
“No, don’t,” comes a quiet, but hard whisper. Yuuri turns to face him and Viktor looks up from his frantic hold to find pure and unadulterated hurt, no, _fury_ reflected back at him. He’s never seen Yuuri’s beautiful eyes like this. Now they are sharp, a deep and black chasm that seems bottomless. It’s terrifying.  
  
“ _No_.” Yuuri says again, this time with pure venom. He attempts to pull his wrist from the confines of Viktor’s grip, but his distressed lover tightens his hold painfully in his refusal to let Yuuri get away.  
  
“Yuuri, I won’t let you go. I can’t,” comes Viktor’s anguished and shaken voice. “I’m sorry, my love, _solnyshko_ , I’m so sor—”  
  
“Enough!” Yuuri cries with great force, and detaches himself from Viktor’s tight grip. “I don’t want to be around you anymore. I need to get away from you, _right now_.” With that, Yuuri turns on his heel and begins the retreat back to his room where it’s been Viktor-proof for almost half a year now. It’s a safe haven for when he needs to be by himself, and right now, he _really_ needs to be alone.  
  
“No, no, _no_ ,” comes a wailing voice behind him, Viktor hot on his trail. He attempts to grab at Yuuri again but the smaller man deftly dodges all of his advances. They make it to the end of the hall to Yuuri’s bedroom and before Viktor can even react, Yuuri has slinked inside and slammed the door shut in his face. The sound of the loud and audible locking mechanism rings through the air.   
  
“No, no, _please_ , Yuuri,” Viktor pleads as he bangs desperately on the door. He doesn’t care who hears. “Baby, please don’t do this. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. You know you’re the light of my life, and no one can ever take your place. I am so completely captivated by you! I need you, _I need you._ ” There’s no reply, and Viktor feels like his voice is going to crack with despairing sobs at any moment. “Yuuri, please. I’m begging you. Let me in! Yuuri! _Yuuri!!_ ”  
  
Yuuri clambers into bed and wraps a secure blanket around himself, curling into a safe ball. He takes his headphones out of the tableside desk and connects them to his phone, turning on his favorite playlist to drown out Viktor’s cries. He whimpers quietly in the warm covers.  
  
Over the music, he can still hear Viktor’s pounding on the door, but within a few minutes it dies down and finally stops.  
  
Yuuri closes his eyes and lets himself fall into the music. He’ll deal with the aftermath of this fight another time, but not right now. Right now, Yuuri is on his own, one of the safest places he can be.  
  
\--------------------------------------  
  
When Yuuri awakens, it’s already dusk outside. He’s sleeping peacefully in his own bed when the gentle hum of his phone stirs him from his slumber. His glasses have fallen somewhere in the sheets and he blearily looks at the clock to see 22:30 reflected back at him. “Ugh,” he mumbles as he pushes himself up and into a sitting position. He feels tired despite the nap.  
  
It takes him a minute to find his phone that’s still insistently vibrating somewhere, but when he finds it, he notices that it’s got a plethora of messages on the front screen. Yuuri sighs painfully and rubs at his eyes again, willing them to see clearly despite the sleep that’s lingering.  
  
The first thing he notices is that Viktor has tried to call him six times and left several long text messages. That was all around two hours ago. After that, he seems to have given up. Instead, a new name pops up: Yuri P.  
  
Yuuri is confused for a moment before he cancels out the missed call notifications and flips over to Yuri’s text message which simply reads, “Pork bowl. Answer your phone, now.” There’s one voicemail.  
  
Yuuri gulps. He’s not sure if he’s ready to hear this.  
  
He places his headphones back in his ears and presses the play button.   
  
“ _Pork bowl_ ,” comes Yuri’s intense and aggravated growl. Yuuri flinches hard despite the fact that the other Yuri’s not even in front of him to physically assault him. “Can you _please_ go and do something about your idiot. I don’t know what kind of retarded fight you had, but Viktor called Yakov bawling, saying something like he definitely can’t come back to Russia. _And Yakov is freaking out_. Do you know what that means, porky??” Yuri yells heatedly into the voicemail.  
  
Yuuri squeaks out a “No??” before he realizes that he’s alone in his bedroom and no one can hear him. _Oh, haha_ , he thinks as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair awkwardly.  
  
“ _It means_ ,” Yuri seethes. “It means that I have to hear the blunt of this shitstorm, ok? And I don’t care. Let me repeat: I. DON’T. CARE. I just want to practice my skating and not get caught up in all your drama, so can you PLEASE go and tell Viktor that he can stop crying like his whole family is dead now?? Some of us actually want to win gold.”  
  
Yuuri sighs with great effort and shakes his head. God, Viktor is so rash and unpredictable sometimes. Why did he have to go and call Yakov? This is all so ridiculous. Yuuri just wanted to be alone for a few hours to collect his thoughts.  
  
He realizes belatedly that Yuri is still yelling at him in the voicemail. “You better fucking fix this or call me back and _I’LL_ fix it. Don’t delete this message. I mean it, FIX THIS.”  
  
With that, there’s an audible beep and the voicemail continues, “To repeat this message, press 1,” Yuuri cancels the call. He never wants to hear it again.  
  
_What do I do now?_ Yuuri thinks, annoyed. He’s not very angry anymore, but he’s still obstinately and stubbornly not ready to face Viktor yet. He’s a little aggravated and to be honest, almost a little embarrassed about how angry he got at a heat-of-the-moment quarrel between them. Considering Yuuri almost never gets angry, Viktor must truly have been at a loss as to what to do. Every time Viktor has done something to hurt Yuuri, it’s always made him cry or withdrawal weakly into himself. It’s never led to Yuuri having a fit of rage while shutting him out ~~and slamming a door in his face~~ completely. He’d avoided him a few times, but never like this.  
  
Consoling Yuuri had now become Viktor’s way of soothing himself, and with Yuuri ignoring Viktor and blocking him from his coping mechanism, he’s realizes he’s placed Viktor in a very confusing and lonely place.  
  
But he’s not going to apologize about this.  
  
Yuuri sighs again and gets up to grab his pullover. He doesn’t feel like being locked up in his room for the rest of the night, but he’s sure Viktor is waiting for him outside and he’s not really in the mood to speak with him either.  
  
He opens the door quietly, peeking to make sure Viktor hasn’t made camp outside his door. He wouldn’t put it past him, but when he glances around, his beautiful pain in the ass is nowhere to be seen.  
  
He pads stealthily to the den and spots Viktor, comfortable under the kotatsu with his head in his arms. There’s what appears to be an empty bottle of sake next to him, and his quiet snores are the only sounds audible in the night. Viktor has gotten a hold of Yuuri’s favorite hoodie and has it wrapped around him tightly. It tugs at his heartstrings and he almost considers making his way over to hold Viktor in his arms and tell him everything is going to be okay.  
  
Almost.  
  
Makkachin is perched loyally next to his master. The poodle raises his head to look at Yuuri with his own pleading eyes, like Makkachin is trying to apologize on Viktor’s behalf. Yuuri shakes his head and whispers a hushed “shh” into the air. The canine companion cocks his head to the side and makes a tiny and weak whine before laying his head back on his paws.  
  
Yuuri tiptoes to the other side of the room and into the hall, grabbing his shoes. He slides the door shut quietly behind him, stepping out into the cold night. There’s a bite to the air but it’s a thousand times better than his stuffy and lonely room. He sits on the steps long enough to slip on his sneakers and lace them up. He does a quick stretch and begins the start of his long night run.  
  
He jogs down the street past quiet and dark houses. He runs past the shrine and over the sandy beach. He makes his way across the bridge and up the small mountain to Hasetsu Castle where he takes a quick reprieve. Glancing at his phone, he notes that it’s already a quarter till midnight. He’s been jogging and wandering around for almost an hour and a half.  
  
His lungs are burning and he’s sore from his intense training earlier in the day, but the burn is sweet and he feels liberated here on the mountain. The sky and stars are not dimmed by the city lights like in Barcelona or in Paris, and he rests on the steps of the castle to look up to the heavens. Yuuri reflects that he’s never been happier, and he’s sure that none of this could have been possible without Viktor’s overwhelming love, affection and support.  
  
But he’s still a twat.  
  
Yuuri decides that he’ll talk things out with Viktor tomorrow when they are both more level headed, hopefully. He’s sure they can work this out easily enough if they’d both just be more open about their feelings and fears, something both of them are learning to do.  
  
Yuuri makes the trek back to the inn and its already well past midnight. It’s so dark Yuuri has trouble seeing in front of him, especially since he left his glasses at home.  
  
He takes a quick wash off and soaks in one of the ofuro tubs. After that, he slips into a clean pair of pajama pants and an old tshirt. When he quietly treads back through the den, Viktor’s gone.  
  
Yuuri walks through the house cautiously and down the hall. He notices that Viktor’s door is slightly ajar and peaks in, but the soft light yields only an empty bed. Yuuri peers down the other end and notices there’s light coming from under his own door, and he knows he turned off the lamp when he left.  
  
OK, so they’re doing this tonight. Yuuri briefly considers just crawling into bed with Mari, but decides that’s the coward’s way out and he’s not going to be chased out of his own room. He’s already pissed Viktor treaded on his sacred space when he _knows_ Yuuri doesn’t want him there.  
  
He walks quietly to the end of the hall and slides the door open, stepping inside. Makkachin is lying in a ball, wrapped in the covers of the bed. Viktor is sitting on the edge, staring listlessly at his phone. “Welcome back,” He says weakly, voice slurred. He doesn’t look at Yuuri.  
  
Yuuri ignores the heavy tension in the air and takes a deep breath, trying to still his rapidly beating heart. He’s dreading the contents of what this midnight conversation will entail, especially since Viktor is drunk. He’s not ready to hear Viktor’s bullshit tonight. He wants to wait until morning.  
  
He opens the closet door to hang his pullover and turns to face his fiancé. Viktor’s phone has been placed aside on the table and Yuuri stills, taking in Viktor’s form. His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy, dark circles beneath them. His cheeks are red and flushed. There’s a deep frown pulling at the corner of his pale lips and he looks so, _so_ lost.  
  
Yuuri sighs. “Viktor…”  
  
“Why do you do this to me, Yuuri?” Viktor rasps with thick emotion. “I waited for you.”  
  
Yuuri sighs even harder. “Yeah, I saw.” When Viktor makes no comment, Yuuri continues. “I just needed some time to myself, Viktor. Surely you understand? Don’t you ever want to be alone?”  
  
“No,” Viktor answers immediately. “I always want to be with you.”  
  
“If that were true,” Yuuri says softly. “You wouldn’t be going back to Russia this soon, would you?”  
  
Viktor looks at Yuuri like he’s seeing him for the first time. Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. “I did this for you, baby.” He croaks. “You said you wanted me to come back to skating and I am.”  
  
Yuuri leans against his closet door and closes his eyes. He brings a hand up to rub at them, willing away the headache that’s coming on. “Viktor,” he breathes. “Please leave.”  
  
He can’t see it, but he hears the strangled sob that follows. When he opens his eyes, he sees Viktor place his head heavily in his hands, his body wracking quietly. It’s so heartbreaking that Yuuri isn’t sure what to do. He’s certain that Viktor is only so open and raw right now because he’s blasted drunk, and he wonders briefly if Viktor will even remember any of this in the morning.  
  
Makkachin looks up from his spot on the bed, ears flat. Even he can feel the heavy tension in the air.  
  
“Please don’t make me leave,” Viktor cries brokenly. “I want to stay with you, please... please, _Yuuri_.”  
  
Yuuri facepalms with impatience and slides down the closet door and onto the cold floor. He shifts until he’s leaning back against the cool wood, looking up to the overhead light. He’s debating with himself how he wants to end this. He’s sure that if he tells Viktor no, there’s going to be a scene. If he tells Viktor yes, he’ll be appeasing him and once again, Viktor will get what he wants. He always gets what he wants. This time, Yuuri _wants_.  
  
It’s petty, but true.  
  
He can hear Viktor pitifully calling his name, but turns his gaze to his desk instead. There’s a few books but it’s mostly decorated with small picture frames of Viktor during his younger skating days, one from last year’s Stammi Vicino routine, and another of them together in front of the Hasetsu castle. Yuuri would feel embarrassed if he weren’t so _over it_.  
  
There’s a shuffling sound and he turns his attention back to find Viktor in front of him, sliding into his arms. The taller and heavier man pushes Yuuri’s legs apart to fall into his chest and cradle himself in Yuuri’s lap. His hand grasps into the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.  
  
He buries his nose into Yuuri’s sternum to silence a hiccup. Yuuri watches him fondly, admiring how beautiful he is even when he’s a complete mess. Viktor’s watery eyes travel from a fixed stare on his collarbones and up to peer into Yuuri’s soft gaze. He slides a hand up Yuuri’s arm to gently cup his face and murmurs, “If you leave me, I’ll die.”  
  
The sentiment is so melodramatic Yuuri can’t stop his laugh from bursting out.  
  
Viktor makes an irritated face and hisses, “ _Is that funny_?”   
  
“No, no,” Yuuri says, finally allowing his arms to circle around Viktor to hold him close. “You are so dramatic. You know I could never leave you. I just went for a jog, for heaven’s sake Viktor.”  
  
“I don’t care,” Viktor sobs as he leans into Yuuri’s secure embrace. “You left me here alone and I was so scared you’d never come back to me.”  
  
“This is _my house_ Viktor, of course I’d come back.” At that, Viktor tears his wandering gaze back up to Yuuri’s and there are tearful, messy streams running down Viktor’s reddened cheeks. He looks so unguarded and vulnerable like this. “And,” Yuuri adds lowly. “You’re my man.”  
  
Yuuri can taste wine and snot when Viktor clashes up and into him to kiss him desperately. Viktor’s hands are everywhere at once, on his shoulders, grasping his back, up his neck and into his hair. His tongue is lapping into Yuuri’s mouth, sucking against Yuuri’s lips with pure abandonment. He shoves his tongue so far back in Yuuri’s throat that it closes his younger lover’s airway off. His breath is saturated with the smell of sake and Yuuri isn’t interested in having sex like this.  
  
He gently pulls his frantic lover from him and weakly swats all of Viktor’s persistent advances away. “No, no,” Yuuri whispers. “Not tonight. You need to go to sleep.”  
  
“I can’t sleep,” Viktor whimpers. “I can’t sleep without you. I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m a hopeless mess without you in my arms, Yuuri.”  
  
Another exasperated sigh escapes Yuuri and he caves. “Fine,” he breathes. “You can sleep in here, okay?”  
  
Viktor’s eyes are wide and wild, then he’s nipping at Yuuri’s lips again, desperate for his kiss. Yuuri has to pull him gently away once more. “Bed, Viktor. Come on.”  
  
Viktor mumbles a throaty affirmation and stumbles his way to the small bed. Makkachin makes a surprised yelp and scuffles to the corner, throwing a weak glare at his careless owner. Viktor pulls the covers back and slides over to the wall, holding the blanket up for Yuuri. He looks annoyed.  
  
“What?” Yuuri asks as he places his phone on charge.  
  
“Get in here and hold me,” Viktor grumbles, agitated and impatient.  
  
Yuuri stares at him for a moment before he finally sinks into the bed and wraps his warm arms around his shaken drama queen. Viktor attempts to nuzzle his way back to Yuuri’s mouth for more kisses, but Yuuri pulls away. “Will you stop that? Go to sleep.”  
  
Viktor makes a sound that’s a mix between an impatient huff and the strangled cry of a dying animal. It almost makes Yuuri laugh again but he knows it’ll just upset Viktor even more, and he’s already so high maintenance right now anyway. He knows Viktor’s going to be embarrassed in the morning… if he even remembers this.   
  
It takes a few minutes and two more attempts for kisses before Viktor finally settles down, comfortable in Yuuri’s arms. He’s nestled into Yuuri’s embrace, nose pressed against his dove’s Adam’s apple. His nose scrunches every time Yuuri swallows.  
  
The young skater is almost asleep when Viktor grabs his waist in a deathgrip and squeezes hard. Yuuri startles back into consciousness and yelps, “W-what??”  
  
“Tell me you love me,” his drunken lover demands, words slurred.  
  
Yuuri looks down to see Viktor’s narrowed and hard stare.  He scowls, but then says in a soft, soothing voice, “I love you, Viktor.”  
  
He hopes that placates his drunken paramour so they can both settle down and finally, hopefully go to sleep. Viktor’s pressed into him again and all’s quiet and still.  
  
Then, “Tell me again.”  
  
“ _Go to sleep, Viktor_.”  
  
It’s almost two thirty in the morning before they both fall into a fitful sleep.  
  
\------------------------------- **  
  
** The next morning, Yuuri awakens to firey, desperate hands on him. They run over his body and pull on his shirt, shifting him in their intensity. There are hot, frantic, open-mouthed kisses pressing into the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his ear, and down his neck. Viktor’s weak and quivering voice whimpers, “Oh god, Yuuri. You came back to me. You came back to me.”  
  
Yuuri opens one eye to peer into the glossy, watery orbs staring at him, a fearful yet relieved spark reflecting back. _So he doesn’t remember_ , Yuuri thinks grumpily.  
  
Yuuri lets out a huff and turns on his side to face the opposite direction. He curls an arm under his head and closes his eyes. He’s not ready to wake up.  
  
Viktor’s hand is caressing his side lovingly and there’s another wet kiss pressed to the back of Yuuri’s neck. He feels Viktor pull away and shift, probably looking around Yuuri’s room. “You let me in,” Viktor sighs dreamily, unbelievingly.  
  
“You let yourself in,” Yuuri mumbles into his arm. There’s another shift and Viktor’s tickling, cold nose is nuzzling into his ear.  
  
“ _You let me in_.” he breathes again, and a shudder runs down Yuuri’s spine.  
  
_There’s no turning back now_ , Yuuri thinks. He’s enveloped in a tight embrace as he muses on the fact that this icy hurricane of a man has now totally saturated every aspect of his life. Viktor rocks him gently in his arms.  
  
The birds chirp in their oblivious joy outside and the world continues to turn.


	8. All That Glitters...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri prepare for their impending separation despite the heavy toll it's taking on them both. Viktor has a surprise for Yuuri, and Yuuri has a surprise of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. I attempted to read through the chapter several times in search of errors. Please forgive any lingering mistakes.

Viktor had awakened with a start that morning, miserable, confused, and unable to recognize his surroundings. After a fleeting moment of intense panic, the jilted lover realized the warm feeling by his side was his precious Yuuri fast asleep. In his relief Viktor had taken on Yuuri’s sleeping form, noting the absence of the sweet and somber face which typically left Viktor breathless every morning, replaced now by a painful scowl.    
  
His recollection of the night before had been hazy at best and at some point there was even a complete blackout of his memory. He remembers banging on Yuuri’s door despairingly, hysterical and broken. Eventually, after only silence, Viktor searched the house desperately for something with Yuuri’s scent and luckily stumbled across an unwashed hoodie in the laundry hamper.  
  
After wrapping himself up in Yuuri’s aura and perching under the kotatsu to wait for him, Viktor had downed an entire bottle of sake and pulled his phone out to call Yakov and explain to him the details of the ongoing nightmare. Namely, if Viktor loses Yuuri, he may as well curl into a ball and die. “ _There’s no way I can come back to Russia now Yakov, I just can’t, I just can’t—_ ”  
  
Viktor had canceled the call at the height of Yakov’s panicked questioning and threw his tear-stained face into his arms. With Makkachin seated loyally by his side, Yuuri’s aroma surrounding him, and the warmth of the kotasu lulling him into a drowsy slumber, Viktor had finally found some peace.  
  
Once he’d put the hazy pieces of the night together and realized Yuuri had taken him back in at some point, Viktor couldn’t stop himself from kissing his dove with every ounce of his love and adoration. He had breathed sweet nothings with every kiss and even attempted to nuzzle Yuuri affectionately, one of his favorite things to do when they cuddled. After grumbling a bit, Yuuri had turned to face the other way in the cramped bed.  
  
Viktor had taken the chance to look around the small room and wondered why Yuuri would hide his seemingly plain bedroom from Viktor for over half a year. He didn’t dwell on it long, though, much more concerned with the delectable treat next to him. Viktor leaned down to kiss at him again and wrapped his katsudon in a tight embrace.  
  
Which brought him to the present. Here, with Yuuri _finally_ back in his arms, Viktor feels a heavy weight lifted from his soul.  
  
“My darling, my sweetest treasure,” Viktor murmurs into Yuuri’s ear. “Tell me what I did to deserve you again last night.”  
  
He feels Yuuri stiffen against him. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t remember either.”  
  
With that, his darling shrugs off Viktor’s suffocating hold and promptly gets up from their shared space in the bed. Viktor watches as Yuuri drowsily throws on a stray jacket and yawns, stretching slightly. He grabs his glasses and pulls the door open, stepping into the hallway without so little as a glance behind him.  
  
Viktor follows him through the house and into the den like a dejected puppy, where the inn guests have already started on breakfast.  
  
There are a few patrons stationed at the table closest to the TV, speaking quietly and enjoying the peaceful morning. Hiroko’s plump and rosy face is the busiest thing this morning, jumping around to multitask and tend to everyone at once. In contrast, Viktor notices Yuuri looks tired and worn.  
  
Yuuri greets his mother warmly and leans down to receive her morning kiss on his cheek. Tending the bar, Mari is mixing some herbal tea. Viktor watches Yuuri’s cute face light up as he greets Mari good morning, and wishes madly that his beautiful heartbreaker would look at him the same way.  
  
When Yuuri takes a seat at one of the empty tables, Viktor immediately takes a seat opposite him. Hiroko brings breakfast and takes a moment to greet Viktor too, running a hand through his bangs to push his hair out of his face.  
  
“Vicchan,” She says with motherly affection. “You don’t look so well this morning. Did you drink too much again last night?”  
  
He did drink too much and his hangover is certainly not helping, but it’s Yuuri’s cold shoulder that’s actually killing him.  
  
“Yes!” He says with his innocent heart-shaped smile, his conversational Japanese still awkward but intelligible. “I’ll be okay. Breakfast smells amazing!”  
  
He’s pretty sure he can see the slight upward pull of Yuuri’s lip in his periphery and prays internally Yuuri will allow him the privilege to hold him again soon, or at least let him have the chance to melt at the sight of his beautiful smile.  
  
When he turns to look, Yuuri’s eyes fall from Viktor’s face to look over his meal instead. Hiroko has walked away to occupy herself with the other guests and Mari has apparently wandered outside to smoke, leaving Viktor and Yuuri alone and in the midst of the heavy air between them.    
  
_Well,_ Viktor thinks with resolve. _This isn’t going to fix itself._  
  
Viktor is desperate for Yuuri’s loving attention, especially with being aware today is Friday. They have today and half of tomorrow before Viktor’s departure to Russia.  
  
Viktor knows there’s a slim chance he can smooth over the rift between them right now, but he feels it’s worth it even for a  <10% probability.  
  
They have a secluded table away from the few other people present and Viktor wishes terribly they could be alone for now, but Yuuri seems cold and distant. He probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Viktor anyway.  
  
Behind his darling’s cool facade Viktor can see the shadow of lingering hurt in Yuuri’s eyes. He regrets with all of his being that he can’t go back in time and hold Yuuri close instead of saying all of those terrible things yesterday. At this point, Viktor’s even considering falling to his knees and proclaiming his undying love for his sweetheart in front of everyone in the inn so that Yuuri can know he’s the only one for Viktor.  
  
“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, _koishii_.” Viktor coos in a hushed whisper. He’s pretty sure his voice is quivering right now. In fact, to be quite honest, Viktor is terrified.

Yuuri looks up from his oyakodon and raises an eyebrow at the Japanese endearment. Although attempting to be sincere, Viktor realizes it’s almost comical coupled with his thick, early-morning Russian accent.  
  
Yuuri gives him an uninterested look and promptly turns his attention back to breakfast. Viktor tries to hide his pain with an adoring smile instead.  
  
“I, uhm,” Viktor continues, clumsily dropping a chopstick into his bowl. “I just—I’m not used to being rejected, I guess. It was just surprising. I’ve never seen you like that before.”  
  
Yuuri looks up again, this time with obvious annoyance on his features. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you like that before either but I would never say something so cruel to you. Thanks for pointing out I’m an awkward and inexperienced virgin, _again_. A replaceable one at that.”  
  
“Yuuri, _really_ ,” Viktor breathes, frustration seeping into his voice. “I really am so, so sorry. I need you to believe me when I say you are my one and only. You are completely, absolutely, without a doubt irreplaceable to me. You make me whole. Now that I know what it means to love and to live fully, I can’t imagine being without these things, being without _you_.”  
  
At some point Viktor’s voice had increased in its volume and he notices a few patrons have looked up to glance at the couple with interest. Viktor feels annoyed with their scrutinizing audience when he’s trying so hopelessly to put forth his sincere feelings to Yuuri, even though he knows none of them can likely understand their English conversation.  
   
Viktor peers wistfully at Yuuri and his sweetheart holds his gaze for a moment before he furrows his brows and says with a flat tone, “Okay, Viktor.”  
  
The dejected Russian gawps and feels a rush of red-hot panic slice through him. Now he really, _really_ wants to cancel his flight and stay with Yuuri, but he’s already bought tickets, packed his bags and even bought Makkachin a brand new kennel. There is also the added weight of his pledge to Yakov, the promise that Viktor would finally come home. He realizes if he doesn’t follow through this time, Yakov may very well lose all his faith in Viktor, and the thought of that _crushes_ him. He’s trapped himself in a very tricky situation.  
  
Viktor has considered all the options available: He could seriously just reconsider his return to competitive skating, but Yakov had already leaked details of the Living Legend’s comeback to the Russian Press. He could skip out on nationals, but then he likely wouldn’t place or qualify for other competitions throughout the season. There was also the option where he could actually wait until next season to compete, but then he’d be twenty-eight going on twenty-nine and he’s just not sure if his body can hold up a gold-level physique that much longer.  
  
It seems like the most logical option is to actually concede and allow Celestino to coach Yuuri for a week, as much as it kills him. Well, “allow” isn’t really the word. Viktor understands now that Yuuri is going to do what Yuuri wants to do. He can’t bear to be ignored and forsaken again, even if for a few hours, and so it seems Viktor is completely under Yuuri’s power.  
  
Viktor is distracted from his thoughts when Mari returns with two large boxes in her arms. She turns to give Viktor a curious look and says, “These just came in for you.”  
  
She’s holding a large oblong cardboard box and a smaller square shaped one. Viktor’s melancholy funk wears off immediately and he jumps up excitedly to receive them.  
  
“YOSH!” He exclaims loudly, uncaring of the odd stares he’s bringing to attention. Yuuri watches him with avid interest, having seen Viktor’s furrowed thinking face transform into one of pure glee upon viewing the contents in Mari’s hold.  
  
Viktor turns to face Yuuri and beams. “Please, Yuuri, come to my room! I have something I need to show you!” With that, he skips down the hall.  
  
Yuuri blushes under Mari’s gaze and bows to her and the other guests, taking his leave. He’s so embarrassed he could die. What if these boxes contain some sort of crazy gadgets? Furthermore, who _knows_ what kind of “gadgets” Viktor would most likely buy.  
  
Swallowing dryly, he makes his way to Viktor’s room and slinks inside, taking in the scenery. What was once a comfortable living arrangement is now cold and barren, all of Viktor’s Russian trinkets and clothes packed away. There had been a few Japanese souvenirs and gifts Yuuri had given Viktor over the last few months, but they are nowhere to be seen now.  
  
He doesn’t have any more time to dwell on the depressing atmosphere because Viktor has torn the large package apart is currently rummaging around inside. He makes a thrilled noise and turns to Yuuri.  
  
“Yuuri, my precious treasure, I can’t sleep without you. I’ve realized it’s just impossible for me now. So, I thought, ‘ _Vitya, what can you possibly do when you’re forced away from your sweet katsudon’s embrace for a whole two weeks!!_ ’”.  
  
Yuuri isn’t sure where this is going but he nods anyway. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“I did some online research and found _this!"_ Viktor grabs a slim, long pillow from the box and holds it proudly in front of him.  
  
Before the adored athlete stands the body-pillow of an animated Yuuri in his glittering purple dance attire, hair slicked back and arm thrown over his head in a seductive manner.  
  
Yuuri chokes on his own spit. “fgsdfg _ittainanda_?? WHAT.” He wheezes. “Where did you find that thing??”  
  
Viktor grins cheekily and holds the Yuuri body pillow to his chest like it’s his most loved possession. He kisses pillow-Yuuri’s hair affectionately.  
  
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Viktor purrs.  
  
Yuuri gapes openly. On closer examination, he’s definitely sure he is not that pretty. A small area of his stomach is visible and he can’t help but notice his animated naval is smooth and flat, no stubborn fat or stretch marks visible. Was this supposed to be realistic or pure fan-service?  
  
“I found it on the internet.” Viktor explains innocently. “You’d be surprised what all is out there. Keychains, phone covers, a lot of art, and did you know people write fictional love stories revolving around us?” Viktor lowers his voice, eyelashes fluttering. “A lot of it is _very_ explicit. Sometimes you call me daddy—”  
  
“ _Please stop_ ,” Yuuri gasps, turning his head away. He can’t bear to look at this monstrosity in front of him any longer. There’s fanart of them? Fan fiction? Yuuri already has a dad, thank you, and he’s not about to get into some kind of S&M role-playing kinky sex when they haven’t even gone all the way yet. “You can put it away now.”  
  
“Aww,” Viktor mumbles, but places pillow-Yuuri gently on the bed. “Of course, it won’t ever be as good as the real you, but it’s better than looking at pictures of you on my phone and crying all night.”  
  
Yuuri sighs and shakes his head. He dreads the answer, but he’s too curious not to ask. “So, what now? What’s in the other box?”  
  
Viktor grabs the smaller package and turns to give Yuuri a knowing smile. “That, my darling, is a secret I will reveal to you at the Ice Castle. Now, go grab your bag!”  
  
Without any other words of explanation, Yuuri is ushered out and into the hall toward his room. He can’t help but wonder (and fear) what kind of ridiculous object is contained in the small box.  
  
Maybe, hopefully, it won’t be as mortifying as a body pillow of himself.  
  
He trades his night clothes for a tracksuit and grabs his bag on the way out. Viktor is standing at the end of the hall waiting for him, red windbreaker and black jogging pants on, hair slightly frazzled and askew. Yuuri thinks Viktor must be one of the only people in the world who could wake up after binge drinking and look as effortlessly gorgeous. When he walks up to his waiting partner, Viktor even smells wonderful. The last time Yuuri went to bed drunk he woke up smelling like death and vomit.  
  
“You’re beautiful today too, _mon amour_.” Viktor purrs, looking Yuuri from his head to his toes and back up again. “Absolutely alluring.”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Yuuri hums with a cocked eyebrow. Viktor is _really_ laying it on thick today.  
  
Yuuri means to walk past Viktor and make his way to the entry hall, but Viktor steps forward and occludes his path. “Yuuri, I don’t mean to sound so desperate but… Can you kiss me, please?”  
  
Viktor is at looking him with such longing it reminds Yuuri of the unusually cold and aloof behavior he’s subjected his dramatic lover through the last two days. He recollects on the fact they haven’t kissed (lovingly) in at least two days, and Viktor very well doesn’t remember their sloppy kisses from the night before.  
  
Yuuri hesitates just long enough to notice the beginnings of panic in Viktor’s eyes before he says “Yeah, come here.”  
  
There’s a flash of intense relief on Viktor’s face and he steps forward to lean down and kiss Yuuri, but is stopped by an obstinate finger on his lips. Yuuri can’t help but smirk at the shocked look on his fiancé’s face.  
  
“After you show me what’s in the other box, okay? Then I’ll give you as many kisses as you want.” With that, Yuuri side-steps Viktor and makes his way down the hall. He can feel his lover’s gaze on his back and within seconds hears the sound of Viktor’s footsteps following behind him, a little closer than strictly necessary.  
  
They make their way to the Ice Castle, Yuuri with his bag in hand and Viktor with his small box. Once inside, Yuuko is getting ready to tend the front desk. She beams when she sees the couple. “Good timing, it’s empty right now!”  
  
“Thank you,” Yuuri says, bowing. “We’ll try and finish up before opening time.”  
  
Yuuko winks and they make their way to the ice. After gearing up, Viktor places the small box between them and holds it out before Yuuri. “Please, my love.”  
  
He's a little nervous to open the mystery package and hopes Viktor wouldn’t bring something ludicrous and private to their sacred training ground. He gives Viktor an apprehensive look and the giddy Russian only smiles wider, waiting patiently.  
  
Yuuri sits on one of the bleachers and begins to break open the cardboard to only find another smaller package within it. He gives Viktor a questioning look but his lover only gives him a singular nod, urging him to continue. The inner box is an elegant gold color with glittering patterns winding around it in a candy-cane fashion. It’s certainly beautiful, but—it’s still a box.  
  
He takes it out and places the cardboard on the floor. Holding the finely crafted package in his hands, he unties the bow keeping it closed and opens the lid carefully. Inside is a neatly folded and glittering blue garment. There are gold ringlets attached to the shoulders and suddenly the clothing is immediately recognizable. Yuuri knows it all too well. He’s watched it hundreds of times in his bookmarked videos, on the TV, in his dreams, and even has a small picture frame of it on his desk.  
  
“Y—you,” Yuuri breathes out. “You replicated it? It’s… beautiful.” Yuuri holds the soft, glittering material in his hands and it’s so silky it almost slips from his grip. He looks up to Viktor with absolutely wonder in his eyes. “Do you plan to wear it for Nationals?”  
  
Viktor takes a seat next to him and crosses his legs, leaning back. He tilts his head ever so slightly to give Yuuri a flashy smile.  
  
“Yes, I do,” he says with a sly lilt to his voice. “But not at the Russian nationals.”  
  
Yuuri gives him a curious look and waits for him to continue. “In fact, I’m going to wear my old purple one. This one,” he reaches over to grasp it in his hands, holding it up and pressing it to Yuuri’s chest. “is for you.”  
  
The younger athlete gives Viktor a disbelieving look and says nothing, eyes flowing from the silky fabric back to Viktor’s face, looking for some sort of hint that it’s a joke.  
  
It’s not. Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulls him close. He nuzzles Yuuri sweetly before resting his forehead against Yuuri’s own, ocean eyes meeting a milk chocolate stare.  
  
“I was thinking, if it’s okay with you, _solnyshko_ , we could actually present our duet version of Stammi Viccino as your exposition. I know it’s late notice and we haven’t necessarily perfected it yet, but I think if we dedicate our remaining time together honing it we can show our love to the world in the most unique way.”  
  
Yuuri is looking at Viktor like he’s beautiful and insane (two things Yuuri knows Viktor to definitely be). He stares blankly before stuttering, “W-what? But, nationals is s-separate and too… mine?”  
  
Viktor listens keenly and shakes his head slightly. “No, uhm… can you run that by me again?”  
  
“V-Viktor!” Yuuri finally squeaks out. “I mean, yes, I would love to but—but nationals are separate and, I mean, OUR nationals are separate so how are we going to do it? And didn’t I gain weight? Can you really lift me up like that in front of all those people? I know we’ve spent months practicing it in our spare time but I always thought it was just for fun?” He looks absolutely panicked and it makes Viktor laugh heartily.  
  
“Yuuri, my sweetheart,” Viktor chitters as he presses a wet kiss to Yuuri’s plump cheek. “You didn’t gain any weight; I’ve just gotten a little weaker. I haven’t been exercising like I used to so my upper arm muscles are a little lazy now. I promise, you are just as beautiful now as you were last month, the month before that, the month before _that_ , and all the years previous.” With another chaste kiss, Viktor murmurs lowly, “…and even if you did gain some weight, it’d just be more for me to hold on to.”  
  
Yuuri makes a garbled noise and pushes Viktor’s face away.  
  
Held by Yuuri at arm’s length, his dove’s hand shoved painfully against his cheek, Viktor looks understandably shocked. Viktor tries to peer past Yuuri’s fingers to see the look on his face, but it’s really hard to see anything when his own face is smashed in by the force of Yuuri’s palm.  
  
“ _Moiyeh luubafvh?_ ”  
  
“Wait,” Yuuri rasps, blush spreading rapidly down his neck and to his shoulders. His hand trembles a little against Viktor’s face. “I just need a moment to calm down and think about this.”  
  
When Yuuri finally releases him, Viktor backs off as requested and settles for watching Yuuri’s beautiful face morph through ten different emotions in two minutes. His sweetheart holds the dusky blue material in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over it and clenching it to his chest. Viktor is smitten.  
  
“Okay,” Yuuri breathes, finally looking at Viktor again. “I want to do it. I want to show the world our love but… how?”  
  
“Well,” Viktor begins, lovestruck but attempting to remain calm in the face of his overwhelming adoration. “Russian Nationals begin two days before Japanese Nationals and subsequently end one day before. If I make the flight and skip out on all the after-parties and celebration events in Russia, I should be able to make it to Osaka and meet up with you in time. I won’t be able to be present for your short program and mostly likely your free skate, but I’ll do everything in my power to be there.”  
  
Yuuri is nodding along, hanging onto every word. He gulps and waits for Viktor to continue.  
  
“If,” Viktor sighs, eyes scanning out to look over the ice before them. “If by some chance I can’t make it, just do your exposition from the Grand Prix final.”  
  
Truth be told, Viktor isn’t sure if this is a fool-proof plan either. It’s something he’d concocted while in Paris, a vision that came to him during a dream. He’d been so taken with the idea he had called the tailor of the original attire first thing the next morning. He’d given him the details and sizing necessary, explaining the urgency of the matter. Viktor hadn’t expected the outfit to be ready this quickly and was absolutely ecstatic this morning when he spotted the package in Mari’s arms that morning.  
  
The design was no longer unique or monumental. Apparently the details for the outfit had been duplicated numerous times by Viktor’s cosplaying fans, a word Viktor didn’t even know until he’d come to Japan to be with Yuuri.  
  
There’s warm fingers curling around his own and he turns his attention to find Yuuri blushing sweetly, cheeks chubby and ruby. Yuuri leans close to give him a loving kiss before he rests his head on Viktor’s shoulder. He squeezes their hands together tightly.    
  
“Thank you, Viktor.” Yuuri whispers.  
  
Viktor doesn’t want to ruin the moment but he can’t stop his hands from grasping forward and dragging Yuuri into him, kissing him relentlessly.  
  
This time, Yuuri melts into his touch and they become inseparable, not even enough room for words between them.  
  
They spend the remainder of the morning practicing their duet in the quiet Ice Castle before the rush of afternoon spectators becomes too much. Yuuko had all but fainted when she saw the costume and begged Viktor and Yuuri to don their respected attire the next day for their final practice session. As embarrassing as it is, Yuuri finds he too can’t wait to see it. After all, Viktor in that glittering purple dancewear had been imprinted in Yuuri’s memories since he’d first seen him in it.  
  
They’re sweaty and sore by the time they finish. Viktor convinces Yuuri the entire walk home that a soak in the hot springs is the only thing that can quell the ache in their limbs. As romantic as the sentiment is, Yuuri doesn’t find the idea of soaking in outside water while it’s snowing appealing at all. Nonetheless, he gets caught up in Viktor’s enthusiastic air and finds himself naked and in Viktor’s arms anyway.  
  
Since it’s late afternoon and no one in their right mind would be in the outside springs this late in the year, they find themselves alone and secluded.  
  
Viktor had barely been able to keep his hands to himself during practice and now with the knowledge they’re alone, he’s got Yuuri flush against a hot rock, cradled in his arms and shaking. Their tongues are intertwined and Viktor pushes himself against Yuuri slickly, aching for some kind of friction between them. He’s well aware of the fact anyone could peek in from the glass doors to see their shadowy silhouettes, but he doesn’t care. Let them see. Besides, they’re engaged anyway.  
  
Yuuri seems too far gone to protest much in return. He opens his legs and uses the strong muscles of his thighs to bring Viktor closer to him. Viktor’s teetering on the dangerous edge of unbridled lust when there’s a loud banging sound from the doorway and an excited shrilling voice slices through the misty atmosphere.

“YUU~~RII” calls an all too familiar voice. Viktor has just enough time to detach himself from Yuuri when there’s the sound of wet feet padding along the rocky walkway and then a shadowy figure leaps from the edge and into the springs, splashing Viktor and Yuuri in the face with hot water.  
  
“Phi— _Phichit_!” Yuuri gasps, wiping the water from his eyes. “You’re here early! Like, really early.”  
  
Phichit gives an animated laugh and slaps Yuuri on the shoulder. “I know! I just couldn’t stop myself knowing there was a free room at Yuuri’s family onsen waiting for me!”  
  
From the mist comes another heavier, calmer walk and then Celestino’s broad shoulders are within sight. He leans down to view the party of the three in the water and gives a light hearted laugh. “Ha ha ha! Well, hello everyone! It’s good to see you again Yuuri, Viktor.”  
  
It takes everything in the Russian man to force a polite smile on his face, and through his teeth Viktor manages, “Yes, you too, Celestino. Welcome back.”  
  
He feels like he’s been gut-punched in the stomach with a hard dose of reality.  
  
\------------------------------------------------  
  
They longue in the springs for a while longer, Phichit and Yuuri happily catching up, Celestino enjoying the lazy atmosphere, and Viktor wholeheartedly wishing he could be anywhere with Yuuri but here.  
  
After staying in long enough for their nerves to tingle and their skin to prune, they finally make it back to the den to grab some drinks and continue making up for lost time.  
  
There’s a collection of people in the small area, but it’s mostly Toshiya’s friends gathering to watch the J-league’s semi-final match. It explains why they’ve been acting so wild the whole week.  
  
Viktor wants to pout and be miserable but it’s impossible when Yuuri is smiling so freely and happily. There’s a small part of him that’s jealous Phichit has such a large place in Yuuri’s heart, but he knows Phichit’s friendship has helped Yuuri get through difficult times and circumstances far before the Russian athlete had even heard their names.  
  
After snapping a picture of his tempura, Phichit throws an arm around Yuuri. “We came early because we wanted to see Viktor before he left. Your flight out is tomorrow, right?”  
  
Viktor throws him a sideways glance and nods. “Yeah, it is.”  
  
Beside Phichit, Celestino leans back and grins. “Good, good! Maybe you can give me a few tips on how to coach Yuuri during nationals.”  
  
It takes everything in Viktor not to point-blank say “don’t” as a response, but he wills his petty jealousy to the recesses of his mind.  
  
Yuuri has already borne witness to the ugly side of Viktor’s personality and the Russian really doesn’t want to make him any more disillusioned with his idol than Yuuri already is. After all, Viktor understands he’s being unreasonable, he just can’t _stop_ it from spilling out sometimes.  
  
At some point Viktor tunes back in and realizes Celestino is still talking to him.  
  
“Yuuri has really grown into a confident skater under your care, Viktor. I wish I could have helped him reach his true potential, but I am thankful for the time we spent together anyway!” His voice yields an authentic and truthful air amid his cheerfulness.  
  
Viktor feels a pang of guilt for giving Yuuri such a hard time about Celestino. When he turns to look at his fragile lover, Yuuri looks overtaken with emotion. Phichit looks even more so, somehow.  
  
“Celestino, you were a great coach—You still are a great coach!! I just didn’t know how to… I just didn’t know how to have confidence in myself or show any confidence in my skating. I had, I mean, I _still_ have terrible performance anxiety sometimes. And I know what you’re thinking!” Yuuri sighs and looks away, all eyes on him. As though steeling himself, he continues. “This hasn’t been an easy road for Viktor either, Coach Celestino. We’ve had many struggles and arguments but somehow we’ve worked through it. I’m still learning. I am thankful to both you and Viktor for everything you’ve done.”  
  
Yuuri’s doe eyes are bright and resolute. There’s a stiffness to his shoulders Viktor recognizes as Yuuri’s determination. Viktor doesn’t have the opportunity to see his beloved Yuuri like this often, especially off the ice, and he wishes he could reach across the table and drag his dove into his arms.  
  
Phichit beats him to it. Clinging to Yuuri like molasses, Phichit cries, “Oh Yuuri! You’re such an inspiration! No wonder you won silver in the Grand Prix!”  
  
Beneath Phichit’s strong hold, Yuuri’s determined face has morphed into one of wide-eyed shyness and blushes.  
  
“Thank you, Yuuri.” Celestino rumbles gently over his cup of tea, smile in place. “It makes me happy to hear you feel this way. I look forward to watching your performance at Japanese nationals again this year. I have no doubt you’ll take gold this time!”  
  
In the midst of the warm environment, Viktor is apprehended by the knowledge Yuuri may very well take gold this year. It suddenly occurs to him Viktor may not make it in time to be there and hold Yuuri in his arms when he receives it.  
  
The shock must be written all over his face because Celestino leans to refill Viktor’s cup and smiles. “Are you okay, Viktor? You look a little pale. Stress from your return to skating wearing on your mind? The competitive skating world is on fire with the news of your return.”  
  
Viktor takes the cup and plasters on his most nonchalant smile. “No, no, I am fine. Thank you for taking care of Yuuri while I will be away. I hope I can meet everyone’s expectations.”  
  
Celestino gives a carefree smile back, nodding. “Of course. I also look forward to watching your performance. Such a shame Russian and Japanese nationals take place in the same week.”  
  
Viktor is mulling over what else to say when his phone begins to ring. He internally thanks every known deity that he should have a moment alone because right now he’s feeling a nauseating mix between guilt and despair. He knows now Celestino and Phichit are the best support systems for Yuuri during Viktor’s absence, but it still doesn’t make the irritation go away.  
  
He is really, _really_ starting to regret this comeback. Viktor always thought spontaneity as the key to an exciting life, but in these instances, he is beginning to see poor planning had many unforeseen consequences.  
  
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, throwing a grin at his company. Yuuri gives him a questioning look and Viktor nods his head in reassurance. He walks through the front hall and outside into the chilly air.  
  
_My adorable Yuri_ flashes on his phone. He can’t help but give an amused chuckle before sliding the screen to accept the call.  
  
“Well hello my cute ‘ _kouhai’_ , what do I owe the pleasure of your attention right now?” Viktor twitters affectionately.  
  
On the other line comes an exaggerated and disgruntled groan. “ _First, stop using Japanese terminology, it sounds stupid coming from a weirdo like you. Second, delete me from your phone after this call because I don’t ever want to listen to your drunk ramblings again. Ever again. Seriously, ever ever again_.”  
  
“You’re in a wonderful mood today,” Viktor muses, staring up at the evening clouds. The last remnants of daylight are shining through in vivid violet and turquoise colors, tie-dying the world in a luminous glow.  
  
“ _Well I didn’t get any sleep last night, for your information, I was too worr— Uh, I was wide awake after all your incessant text messages.”  
  
_ “You were—” Viktor chokes, gasping. “You were going to say you were worried about me, weren’t you? That’s what you were going to say. Don’t lie to me, Yuri.”  
  
“ _SHUT UP, I WAS NOT.”_ It’s so loud Viktor has to hold the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Oh, Yuri,” Viktor breathes, deeply touched. “I wish you would have facetimed me instead so I can see your cute face. Oh well, I’ll have to settle for the sentiment. I’ll be home soon, you know?”  
  
“ _NO_ , _I DIDN’T KNOW. Particularly after you texted me fourteen times saying you weren’t coming home because pork bowl was going to leave you. That’s really stupid because I’m pretty sure he was the one who insisted you come back to compete anyway, right? You two don’t make any sense._ ”  
  
“That was,” Viktor pauses, thinking on how to explain the convoluted situation. “Er, I mean…. Well, I don’t really remember the details, per se…”  
  
“ _Of course you don’t, you were drunk. I mean, really drunk. More drunk than you usually are._ ” Yuri spits on the other line.  
  
Viktor gives a tired sigh, the beginnings of a headache making its way front and center to his brain in its attempt to put into words what occurred the night before.  
  
Yuri’s voice is uncharacteristically somber when he says, “ _You said something stupid to him, didn’t you?_ ”  
  
Viktor leans against the brick wall of the inn, eyes traveling up the large oak tree before him. Fading light filters through the remaining leaves, cloaking Viktor and the earth beneath it in shadows.  
  
“Yeah,” Viktor sighs. “I did.”  
  
“ _Don’t screw this up, Viktor. Pork bowl really does….”_    
  
Viktor doesn’t even need him to finish his sentence. He knows exactly what Yuri is trying to tell him.  
  
“I know,” Viktor says softly. “I really love him too.”  
   
There’s another moment of silence between them until a booming voice in the background is yelling at Yuri in aggressive Russian. Viktor knows that voice and those screams too well. He’d been victim to them plenty of times when he was wandering around or goofing off during practice.  
  
He hears Yuri rattle something back in their mother language before he seethes quietly, “ _Ugh, Yakov. Gotta go. You better come back! And remember: I’M WINNING GOLD.”_ Click. _  
  
_ Viktor smiles wryly to himself as he moves to put his phone away. He knows he will miss his beloved Japanese Yuuri terribly while he’s away, but even so, he looks forward to being with his Russian family again. He never imagined he’d miss Yakov and Yuri’s grumpy faces like this.  
  
The ashen haired athlete exhales fondly, watching his breath dissipate in small puffy clouds of mist. The night air is crisp and the temperature is rapidly dropping as nightfall settles over Hasetsu. He shivers in his red windbreaker and wraps it around him a little tighter. He’s about to turn and go back inside when he hears soft footsteps coming his way.  
   
He looks over to see his sweet Yuuri padding toward him, pulling his own black jacket tighter around his slender frame.  
  
“Viktor? Is everything okay?” He burrows into the warmth of his clothing. Viktor adores the way his glasses fall to the bridge of his nose, exposing his rosy and round cheeks.  
  
“Yes, my darling, everything is fine.” Viktor purrs, finding himself unconsciously moving forward to close the distance between them. He’s already pulled Yuuri’s hands from the confines of his jacket and laced their fingers together before he realizes what he’s doing. It’s amazing, really, how automatic these affectionate gestures have become.  
  
Viktor remembers when his every move used to be calculated, precise, always teetering on the edge of flirty but never grounded.  
  
Until he met Yuuri.  
  
“Was it Yakov?”  
  
Yuuri’s voice is so soft and unsure it makes Viktor look up to see his expression. His sweetheart stiffens at Viktor’s stare and looks away, muttering, “I mean… apparently last night, you uh. You made some phone calls.”  
  
Viktor remains wordless for a moment before he releases a ragged breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah, I know. I looked through my phone earlier and glanced through my texts to see what all I said. I couldn’t read them… to be frank, it’s embarrassing.” He brings a hand to rub his neck sheepishly, eyes wandering to look anywhere but at Yuuri right now.  
  
Viktor Nikiforov doesn’t get embarrassed. At least, not until now.  
  
Yuuri busts out with a vibrant laugh, keeling over slightly in its intensity. Viktor pulls his hand away to give Yuuri a questioning look.  
  
“Ha—hahaha, sorry, sorry,” Yuuri wheezes. “It’s just. I just remembered some of the texts you sent me last night.”  
  
Viktor reels. _Great.  
  
_ He knows better, _knows better_ , but can’t stop himself from saying “… and?”  
  
Yuuri is still laughing before him, breathless now, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. His cute face can’t even stop the surge of annoyance that tears through Viktor.  
  
“A-and,” Yuuri straightens up, pulling his own phone out. Viktor stares at the blue puppy phone case as Yuuri makes himself busy pulling up the supposed texts.  
  
“Here it is. The first text is you b—” Yuuri can’t even finish, his laughter apparently overpowering him. Viktor doesn’t find it very amusing.  
  
Instead, Yuuri hands him the phone. “H-here, pfftbwahahaha. _So_ - _Sahrry_.”  
  
Viktor gives him one last look and mutters “Really, Yuuri?” before turning his attention to the offending content.  
  
What he finds leaves him mortified. The first message appears to be Viktor begging Yuuri not to divorce him, expressing his concern for Makkachin’s wellbeing should his parents split up. Against his better judgement, Viktor continues scrolling.  
  
The next text focuses on Viktor’s dream of them owning a gourmet cheese shop in France and if Yuuri wouldn’t give up on him he’d make that dream come to life, “ill take car of u yuri i promise’ sealing the deal.  
  
Viktor stops reading after that.  
  
Yuuri is before him shaking his head in his hands. His laughter has audibly died down but the gleam in his eyes reveals his bemusement despite the silence.  
  
Viktor gives him an irritated face and hands the phone back. “Glad someone thinks this is funny.”  
  
Yuuri gives another breathless giggle before he reaches for Viktor’s hand and gently pulls him forward. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s too cold out here.”  
  
Despite his annoyance, he follows Yuuri anyway.  
  
Inside, Phichit and Celestino have been ushered over to sit at a table with Toshiya and Hiroko. Celestino looks completely engrossed in his conversation with Yuuri’s father and Phichit watches as Hiroko continues to pile more food on his plate, adamant he’s too skinny.  
  
After joining the table briefly and eating way more calories than Viktor has any business ingesting pre-tournament, they all find themselves in the hall leading to their respective sleeping arrangements. Celestino’s already set up camp in a vacant room and Phichit could have had one too, apparently, but opted to pull out a futon and sleep in Yuuri’s room.  
  
Viktor takes note of Yuuri’s easy expression when he says, “No, no, don’t sleep on that old futon, just sleep in the bed with me. I know it’s cramped but I can make room.”  
  
“Oooh, it’ll be like old times~!” Phichit responds excitedly.  
  
They’re so engrossed in the conversation Yuuri doesn’t even notice Viktor’s unwavering, shocked expression at the proposal.  
  
Phichit gives a joyous half-squeal and enthusiastically wobbles down to Yuuri’s bedroom. They hear him groan “oh god I ate too much” before he slips into Yuuri’s bedroom.  
  
Celestino claps a hand on Viktor’s shoulder and yawns. “Well, good seeing ya Viktor, Yuuri. Goodnight!” With that, he’s gone too.  
  
Yuuri turns his attention to a bewildered Viktor who hasn’t yet snapped from his stupor. Yuuri leans forward to give Viktor an innocent kiss and mumbles, “Good night, Viktor.”  
  
The sound of the door sliding shut gently in the night is the last thing Viktor hears before he’s left alone in the hall, expression unchanged.  
  
\---------------------------------------------------  
  
It’s already close to midnight when Viktor gives up trying to sleep for the time being. Even with Pillow-Yuuri in his arms and Makkachin burrowed snuggly against his back, Viktor couldn’t pass beyond light dozing.  
  
He reaches to turn on the bedside lamp and pulls out a book, fluffing up some pillows to lean against. Once settled, he flips to his bookmark and begins to continue where he’d last left off in the Russian drama.    
  
He’s so absorbed in the book, eyes scanning over the page while his free hand mindlessly strokes Makkachin’s back, he doesn’t even hear the soft knock on his door. It’s the creak of the wood sliding open and barely audible footsteps which finally catch his attention.  
  
Before him, in the shadows, Yuuri quietly steps into the room. He slides the door shut silently before he turns a shy grin to Viktor. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Viktor repeats, leaning forward and setting his book on the nightstand. He’s about to pull the covers off and get up but Yuuri holds a hand forward to stop him.  
  
“No, no, stay in bed.” Yuuri whispers, making his way to the bedside and sliding in next to Viktor. In doing so, he knees pillow-Yuuri in the face and Viktor makes a pained sound.  
  
“ _Yuuri, you’re hurting him!!_ ”  
  
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you have this thing in bed with you?”  
  
“Yeah.” Viktor mumbles grumpily, flushing. “Because you wouldn’t get in bed with me…”  
  
“Ugh, Viktor, please. I’m in bed with you now, aren’t I?” Yuuri whispers back heatedly as he throws pillow-Yuuri across to the other side of the bed, ignoring Viktor’s adamant protests. “I can’t believe you bought that thing.”  
  
Viktor debates explaining the importance of pillow-Yuuri for his mental health, but stops. Instead, he asks the most obvious question at hand. “Anyway, Yuuri, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to sleep with Phichit tonight?”  
  
It’s Yuuri’s turn to blush. Viktor expects him to settle down next to him and pull the covers up around them, but is surprised when Yuuri does the opposite. His darling folds the covers back to expose both of them and shoos Makkachin gently to the very bottom of the bed.  
  
“I was, but,” he pauses, eyes lingering on Makkachin, hands fiddling with the covers absently. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”  
  
Viktor dies, revives, and then dies again.  
  
“Oh Yuuri, now you know how I feel every second we are apart.” He moves to wrap Yuuri in his embrace but is interrupted when Yuuri’s forceful hand is on his sternum, pressing him down and against the bed lightly. There’s a dip in the mattress as Yuuri throws a leg over him, straddling him and effectively boxing Viktor in between his strong thighs.  
  
Surprised, Viktor peers at Yuuri through his silvery lashes and drinks in the sight before him.  
  
Yuuri’s usual bashful smile is nowhere to be found. Instead, Yuuri’s eyes are dark and hooded, his lithe body seated firmly on Viktor’s pelvis. His rough hands are caressing their way under Viktor’s shirt to palm the smooth milky skin, thumbs rubbing circles on the heated flesh.  
  
“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor breathes, fire spreading from his spine to every nerve in his body.  
  
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Yuuri whispers, leaning down to place a tender kiss to the side of Viktor’s mouth. Yuuri’s hands wander until his thumbs press Viktor’s soft nipples, rubbing them gently. It causes his lover to release a shuddering sigh of pleasure. Above him, Yuuri wets his lips and murmurs lowly, “I want to have my fill of you before you go.”  
  
“ _Yeess_ ,” Viktor hisses quietly, head lolling to the side as Yuuri’s thumbs massage his chest ruthlessly, becoming oversensitive to the attention. “You can have me any way you want, Yuuri.”  
  
Logically, Viktor knows it’s a bad idea to engage in intense sexual activity when he has less than a week before his competition. Furthermore, Celestino’s room is adjacent to his own and Phichit is sleeping in Yuuri’s room down the hall. Lastly, it’s been a long time since Viktor’s engaged in full-on penetrative sex, but if Yuuri wants to fuck him, by god, Viktor’s going to let him.  
  
Yuuri apparently doesn’t have anything else to say because he slides down and pulls Viktor’s shirt up to kitten-lick his chest.  
  
Viktor’s breath hitches and he keens as Yuuri takes the abused nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, other hand occupied with kneading his side. Viktor can’t stop the heavy pants escaping him as he feels Yuuri’s tongue lave wetly, sucking gently. Satisfied, Yuuri releases his hold with a loud pop and moves to capture and abuse the other nub.  
  
This really is rather surprising to Viktor, considering Yuuri has never been with someone intimately before and is more often than not submissive and passive when it comes to sensuality. There have been times when he’s been straightforward, but even then it was fleeting. Viktor hopes Yuuri won’t wilt as soon as their clothes come off because he really, really wants Yuuri to do him right now.  
  
This also propels them over a hurdle Viktor had been pondering on how to cross. He didn’t want their first time together to be traumatizing and painful for Yuuri, so he was going to propose the idea of Yuuri taking the lead. After all, Viktor has already engaged in anal sex with his fair share of partners over the years (although it has been quite awhile) and he figured coaxing and coaching Yuuri through their first whole and complete connection to one another would help him feel more confident. And really, for more selfish reasons, Viktor has ogled Yuuri’s naked body and has even tasted him on his tongue. It may not be particularly long, but _it is thick_.  
  
“Viktor,” Yuuri murmurs, hands cupping his lover’s face as he dips his tongue past Viktor’s lips. He’d been so preoccupied thinking about Yuuri that he’d neglected the actual treat seated on his lap right now. Viktor has no more opportunities to reflect because his young lover sneaks a hand down to palm at Viktor’s obvious bulge.  
  
Viktor is quickly becoming greedy for Yuuri’s attention and cants his hips forward to press his pained erection against his lover’s palm. The touch isn’t enough and Viktor is aching. He breaks their kiss to whimper against wet lips, “Baby, _please_.”    
  
“Okay, okay,” his sweetheart breathes, reaching forward to pull Viktor’s shirt over his head. Once removed, Yuuri slides down to grasp at his soft pajama pants and pulls them off as well, watching as Viktor’s hard and flushed erection bounces energetically against his belly with the force. Viktor can’t even feel bashful under Yuuri’s intense gaze and spreads his legs wide as soon as Yuuri pulls the last of his pants from his ankles.  
  
Viktor watches impatiently as Yuuri drinks in the sight before him, eyes glazed over and jaw slightly unhinged. As much as he loves the attention, Viktor really needs Yuuri to hurry up and touch him. He’s been aching and pining for him so much the last few days and he’s not sure if he can last long even without being touched properly.  
  
“Can I suck you off?” Yuuri asks, voice husky, heavy gaze roaming Viktor’s body and up to his beautiful face. He drinks in the hungry expression he finds there, his lover’s bright blue eyes now a dark and cloudy storm of lust.  
  
“Yes, _yes_ ,” Viktor whines. “You can do whatever you want, Yuuri, _please just hurry_. I want you so bad.”  
  
Yuuri exhales sharply and whispers, “ _I want you too, Viktor_ ,” before he settles between Viktor’s thighs to bury his nose in soft silver curls. Viktor watches as his young lover nuzzles the soft skin connecting perineum to thigh and leaves a wet strip of his tongue there before moving to the other side and doing the same. Viktor presses one thigh to Yuuri’s shoulder, wordlessly urging him to continue on and finally stop teasing him. He makes a mental note to return the favor the next time they find themselves in bed.  
  
His dove appears to get the point because he peers into Viktor’s eyes one more time before grasping Viktor's aching erection in his hand and wrapping his lips around the swollen head. Viktor gasps quietly, unable to stop his hips from undulating at the sensations, lost in a haze. Yuuri doesn’t even have half of his cock in his mouth and Viktor’s already gone.  
  
Waves of carnal desire surge through his body as Yuuri sucks on the head and uses his coarse palm to massage the foreskin roughly. His tongue swirls around the swollen flesh and then laps against the slit. He lets off with a wet pop and resumes jerking his foreskin, this time over the head and then back to the base.  
  
Viktor’s had his share of oral sex before (one time even from a professional Russian porn actress), but this is raw and rough, albeit inexperienced. Even so, Yuuri is really, _really_ into it right now. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, lips slick with saliva. When he takes Viktor’s unbearably hard length back in his mouth and tries to swallow it down, the sensitive skin catches on his teeth and it sends an intense and pained pleasure through every nerve in Viktor’s body. The older lover lurches forward to lean on his elbows, eager to watch.  
  
Viktor’s eyes are wide, he’s sure, and probably wild by the way Yuuri is looking at him. He can feel sweat gathering at his temples and even feels a drop run down the side of his face. His heart is beating wildly in his chest and god, he is _so turned on right now_. Watching his cock disappearing in and out of Yuuri’s mouth is accelerating him right into a full blown orgasm less than three minutes into this masterpiece. He tightens his grip in Yuuri’s hair, unaware when exactly he’d actually placed his hand there. He’s so, so close.  
  
He runs his hand down and over Yuuri’s chin before cupping his cheek and moving back up to push Yuuri’s damp bangs out of his face, giving Viktor a clear view of Yuuri’s wet tongue sliding slickly along the underside of his length. It’s almost embarrassing how much precome is leaking from his slit.  
  
“Oh, that’s right,” Viktor coos huskily. “Just like that. You’re doing so good for me.”  
  
Yuuri pops Viktor out of his mouth long enough to whisper, “Yeah?”  
  
He doesn’t even give Viktor a chance to reply before he’s got the throbbing length back in his mouth with a loud slurp, wet noises filling the silent air as Yuuri uses his slick lips to rapidly move back and forth over the tip.  
  
“Yes, yes, yes, _oh god Yuuri_ ,” Viktor moans, head thrown back with abandon, body shivering uncontrollably. “Yuuri, _Yuuuri_ , I’ll come if you keep this up, baby, I’m gonna come—”  
  
Yuuri is ruthless. His grip on Viktor’s base becomes so tight it’s almost painful as he jerks it roughly. He’s using brutal suction to piston the tip of Viktor’s cock between his lips, saliva dribbling from the side of his mouth. It’s messy and wet and noisy and it’s _perfect_. Viktor can’t even open his mouth to beg for permission to come because it’s too much.  
  
All Viktor can manage is a broken sob of Yuuri’s name as his abdomen clinches and his hips weakly and erratically undulate under Yuuri’s wet ministrations. When his lover takes all of Viktor’s arousal into his mouth, throat clenching against the intrusion, it’s too much for Viktor to bear and he finally spills inside his lover’s waiting mouth.  
  
Thoroughly fucked and blissed out, Viktor falls bonelessly against the pillows and mattress. He’s panting heavily, much heavier than any time in the last year and he realizes both his mind and body are exhausted. If Yuuri had been an incubus he probably would have killed Viktor with that blowjob.  
  
“That was amazing,” Viktor breathes out, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He feels the mattress dip as Yuuri reaches for a tissue, holding it up to his mouth to spit out the remains of Viktor’s pleasure. “Hey, I swallowed yours.”  
  
Yuuri tosses the tissue in the wastebin next to the nightstand and turns to give Viktor a look. “I didn’t ask you to.”  
  
Viktor debates continuing the argument but doesn’t have the energy, and besides, he’s got other things on his mind right now. He leans up to grasp Yuuri’s wrist and pulls gently. “C’mere.”  
  
His angel shakes his head and doesn’t budge. “No, tonight was for you. It’s already late. You can return the favor next time.”  
  
The older male find himself blinking owlishly, almost confusedly. “What? You don’t want me to get you off right now?”  
  
Yuuri flushes at the bluntness and shakes his head gently. “Viktor, come on, don’t be so brash.”  
  
Really, Yuuri can be so…. surprising. “You just had my cock in your mouth and you’re telling me my language is too brash? And anyway, now that I can think straight, where in the world did you learn to give head like that?”  
  
Yuuri makes a choked noise, surprised.  
  
“I, uh,” he stutters, rubbing his hands together. “Read a lot of forums and even watched some pretty detailed videos on how to do it. It’s not that hard to breathe compared to catching my breath during a routine, but my jaw is a little sore. Sorry, I know I’m inexperienced…. I think I accidentally bit you a few times too.”  
  
“You did,” Viktor replies. “but it was good. Actually, it was awesome. I loved it. You can bite harder next time.”  
  
“Viiiktor!!” Yuuri whines, embarrassed.  
  
“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor whines back. He laughs when Yuuri slaps his knee. “No, really, it was amazing, _moya lyubov_. I’d even argue it’s the best I’ve ever had.”  
  
Yuuri’s playful expression morphs into one of mock irritation. “You’ve had many?”  
  
Viktor leans up and smiles gently, cupping his dove’s chin to draw him close. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been this in love with, Yuuri.”  
  
He feels Yuuri melt in his hands and Viktor watches a blush spread from his cheeks down into the neckline of his T-shirt. With a breathy whisper, Yuuri asks, “Really?”  
  
“Really.” Viktor whispers back without hesitation. He pulls Yuuri forward and into his arms, kissing him tenderly. They fall into the pillows together and stay like that until they both grow drowsy.  
  
With Yuuri nestled into the pillow and dozing lightly, Viktor leans down to pull the cover back over them. He’s bare and naked and Yuuri is completely clothed. He’s actually thankful because he knows what happens when he wakes up to a naked Yuuri in his arms.  
  
Beady black eyes are staring at Viktor just over the edge of the bed, and Viktor startles. Oh, no, _they forgot to let Makkachin out_.  
  
They stare at one another a moment before Viktor laughs awkwardly.  
  
“Sorry, buddy.” He’s really ruined his sweet companion’s innocence now.  
  
Yuuri would just die if he knew.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------  
The next morning, Viktor wakes up from the best sleep he’s had in days, Yuuri securely in his arms. He proceeds to rouse his sweet darling with kisses to every inch of available skin until Yuuri finally swats him away.  
  
Breakfast goes by quickly and Viktor feels relieved when Phichit doesn’t ask any questions, only gives them a knowing look. Yuuri blushes under the gaze and Celestino remains just as oblivious as usual.  
  
They all make their way to the Ice Castle, Yuuri and Viktor with matching costumes in hand. They perform their duet for an audience of three: Phichit, Celestino and Yuuko. Phichit provides an unimaginable show of strength when he doesn’t pull his phone out, Celestino claps cheerily at the end, and they have to shake Yuuko vigorously when she’s unresponsive after the performance.  
  
They return back in the late morning so Viktor has time to make the bus to the city, where he’ll take the subway to ultimately arrive at the airport. He’s made the journey so many times he convinces Yuuri it’s not necessary for him to spend the whole evening accompanying Viktor to the city just to come back to Hasetsu alone in the late night.  
  
After saying his goodbyes to Yuuri’s family, Phichit and Celestino, Yuuri escorts Viktor to the bus stop. They set Viktor’s bags down and look out into the foggy Hasetsu countryside.  
  
Viktor feels like he should say something, but when he turns to see the somber look on Yuuri’s face, stare fixed on the dewy grass, he’s at a loss. He wants to comfort him, hold in him his arms, promise him that their time apart will be fleeting, but he can’t. He knows how heavy this weighs on them both and he understands the uneasiness Yuuri must be feeling because he feels it too, with every fiber of his being.  
  
Yuuri breaks the silence first.  
  
“I’m going to miss you so much, Viktor.” It’s weak, almost a whisper, but Viktor hears it so loudly it reverberates in his mind and wreaks havoc on his heart.  
  
“Oh Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, voice on the edge of breaking. He pulls Yuuri into a smothering hold, his nose burrowed into thick black locks. He inhales deeply, etching the smoky aroma of Yuuri's shampoo into his memory. “ _Solnyshko_ , my love, my angel, my moon and stars—”  
  
Yuuri falls into his embrace immediately, burying his own nose into Viktor’s chest, holding onto him with all his might. Viktor cradles him safely in his arms, rocking him gently on his heels. They stay like that until small drops of light rain begin to sprinkle down upon them.  
  
Yuuri doesn’t budge and Viktor looks up to cloudy sky, watching the tiny rain droplets fall in a fine mist around them. He rubs his hand absently along Yuuri’s back, his other wound securely around his waist. He thinks with bitter remorse that this is all his fault.  
  
“I love you, Yuuri.” Viktor whispers, pressing a kiss to his darling’s forehead.  
  
Yuuri looks up from his spot on Viktor’s chest and his eyes are glossy, dark and miserable. He sniffles and whispers hoarsely, “I love you.”  
  
The kiss is tender and full of longing. They pull back to look at one another again before resuming their places from before, Yuuri nestled into Viktor’s bosom, Viktor resting his head lightly in Yuuri’s locks.  
  
They only separate when the rain begins to pick up. Viktor procures an umbrella and pulls Yuuri close, shielding him from the rain. “I have something for you.”  
  
Yuuri sniffles out a little laugh and mutters nasally, “The last time you said that it was a new ring.”  
  
Viktor pulls Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kisses the aforementioned ring tenderly. “I know, but it’s not another ring this time. This is something I’ve been meaning to give you for a long time now. I tried to hint at it but… I guess I didn’t do a good job.”  
  
Yuuri stares at him curiously. The rain is beginning to fall around them harder and the clouds cover the land in resolute shadows.  
  
The younger lover watches as Viktor pulls a small metallic object from his pocket, looking at Yuuri with a gleam in his eye. He takes Yuuri’s hand and gently places a key in his palm.  
  
“What’s this?” Yuuri asks, confused.  
  
Viktor uses his own gentle hands to close Yuuri’s grasp around the key, bringing his lips to kiss tenderly at their shared hold. “ _This_ is my apartment key. I want you to come live with me in St. Petersburg, Yuuri. My home is your home, no matter what city, no matter what country, despite any distance between us. My heart is always with you.”  
  
Viktor’s loving gaze begins to falter when he receives no reply, silence permeating the fragile atmosphere between them. He’s on the verge of worry until Yuuri’s free hand grasps his upper arm roughly and yanks him forward and into Yuuri’s frantic embrace.  
  
“YES,” Yuuri cries, arms holding Viktor with immense strength. “Please, oh Viktor, please tell me this is real.”  
  
Viktor’s temporary surprise melts into pure happiness and he wraps Yuuri in his own reciprocal embrace. He holds on to him tightly and whispers, “Yes, Yuuri. It’s real. There is nothing more real to me in this world than my love for you.”   
  
When the bus comes, it takes every ounce of strength Viktor has to let go of Yuuri. He kisses him goodbye five different times before he grabs his bags, getting ready to turn. He has to stop and take a step back to give Yuuri three more kisses.  
  
“Viktor, you have to go. They’re waiting.” Yuuri whispers against his lips, aware of the driver’s annoyed stare.  
  
“I know, I know,” Viktor whines, unable to break away. Yuuri has to push him gently toward the bus.  
  
Viktor stops at the door and pivots, bags by his side.  
  
“I love you.” He repeats again.  
  
“I know,” Yuuri replies softly, lovingly. He caresses Viktor’s cheek and revels in the way his lover leans into the touch, nuzzling his palm. “Two more weeks and I’ll bring my things to St. Petersburg… and we won’t have to part again.”  
  
Viktor looks so lost right now and sighs dreamily, kissing Yuuri’s palm. “I can’t wait, _moya lyubov_. I’ll call you every six hours and I need to Skype you and see your beautiful face at least twice a day, if not more, and—”  
  
He's only stopped by Yuuri’s gentle thumb on his lips. “Shh, Viktor, I know, I know, but you’ve got to go! She’s giving us a look.”  
  
Viktor turns to glare at the driver, mustering his most irritated look. She returns the face with her own scowl. Behind him, Yuuri bursts out with an airy giggle. “Really, Viktor? Are you serious right now?”  
  
Overcoming his great disdain for his upcoming travel partner, Viktor turns back to give Yuuri one last kiss. “Yes I am, as a matter of fact, and… I love you, Yuuri.” he repeats once more.  
  
Once again, with serene patience, Yuuri replies, “I love you too, Viktor.”  
  
There’s an intense pain in Viktor’s chest as the bus pulls away from the stop, leaving a fading Yuuri to stand under the umbrella in the rain as he waves goodbye.  
  
On the road, Viktor presses his face to his phone and sobs into the home screen, a picture of them together. He cries the entire trip to the Fukuoka airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to tweak the real world timeline for this chapter as both 2016 Japanese nationals and Russian nationals actually extend to the same day, both ending on the 25th (Viktor's birthday ;) ) In my research I've found YOI seems to be going off of the 2015 timeline? Anyway, the 2015 GPF was held in Barcelona while the 2016 GPF was held in France sooooo.... technically Yuuri should be going to Sapporo this year but I have him in Osaka instead. Please forgive the inaccuracies. I should have done more research! 
> 
> Anyway, despite the inaccuracy, I hope this chapter is enjoyable. Thank you everyone for reading this ridiculously long fic. I truly appreciate all the kind words.
> 
> EDIT: As one of my sweet commenters pointed out.... I forgot Makkachin at the end. Also, I should explain that the first and second chapter of this fic was released before I saw the 12th episode, so in this timeline Yuuri and Viktor never performed the duet version in the GPF, and I wanted to incorporate it somehow.


	9. ... Is Not Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detroit’s dynamic duo and their entourage run amok in Osaka and Viktor is left in Russia with a balding Yakov and an angry fifteen-year-old. He soon discovers all that glitters is not gold.

The trip back to his mother country is long and very lonely, especially since he left his intended canine travel partner back in Japan for the time being. He’d decided at the last minute keeping Makkachin locked up in his apartment in St. Petersburg when he’d be in another city for the majority of the next week was a punishment his loyal friend didn’t deserve. Yuuri promised to bring him in his brand new kennel during the move over. This way, Makkachin would be with Yuuri’s parents, two people the dog had come to love as well. It’s going to be lonely, but it’s for the best.  
  
Viktor eventually snapped out of his melancholy halfway through the flight and reeled in his self-disgust.  He’d always been an independent man with little to no dependency on anyone apart from his adoptive family, so his intense and childlike attachment to Yuuri was suffocating and he knew it. He was sure if he kept his clingy behavior up Yuuri would eventually get sick of him and probably leave him for someone a little less needy.  
  
After all, this was a man who held his dog in his arms when he slept. He was naturally flirty and sentimental, but with Yuuri being his first true and honest love, Viktor felt like a confused and hormonal teenager all over again. He’d maintained some sort of professional facade during the development of their relationship, but once they’d cleared the GPF and actually became a full-fledged couple, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.  
  
And, anyone could see Viktor was a pining fool for Katsuki Yuuri.  
  
When he arrives at Pulkovo airport there’s no one there to greet him and he doesn’t mind. In his planning, he’d been very discrete about the details of his return, fearing paparazzi and journalists would flock to him with prying questions. Also, to be frank, Viktor looks like shit. He had peered into the bathroom mirror of the airplane and was startled to see dark lines under his eyes and a tired expression.  
  
Considering he used very expensive facial cream to hide raccoon eyes, he was not pleased. He really needed to go home and sleep for 24 hours, meet up with his Russian family and skate away his anxieties for the next several days. It wasn’t going to happen, but the thought was nice.  
  
He takes a taxi back to his apartment and lugs his bags through the front door. The air is stale and there are cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, a testament to his extended absence from home. He had been surprised a month earlier to find his lease hadn’t expired during his time away. It didn’t matter to him, after all, sponsors paid the rent and utilities.  
  
It’s the late afternoon in Russia and Viktor unpacks and begins to clean the apartment. He plays a Russian drama in the background while he begins his earnest work, starting with dusting off all the surfaces and working through grimy dishes. He washes all his linens from their musky scent and even vacuums the whole apartment. He really wants the place to feel and look like home again, especially since he plans to share it with his most cherished person soon. The thought is exhilarating. He hasn’t lived with anyone since he’d left Yakov and Lilia’s home many years prior.  
  
Once he’s happy with the results of his labor and relishes in the lemony-cent of cleanliness, he takes a quick shower and changes into his track suit. He places pillow-Yuuri gently in the sheets and covers him lovingly, giving the soft material a chaste kiss and coos, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”    
  
By the time he’s actually ready to leave, it’s already early evening now but he’s sure the squad is still at the rink, probably in the ending throes of intense practice. He grabs his bag and makes for the apartment elevator.  
  
It doesn’t take long to get to the private rink rented specifically for professional athletes and he swipes his keycard to get in through the entrance. He rounds the hall and steps through the glass doors, looking down the bleachers to peer out and take in the icy scene before him.  
  
The first thing he spots is Mila’s bright scarlet hair, then he notices a certain gaping bald spot yelling incomprehensibly to all of the aloof athletes on the ice. Georgi is looking anywhere but at Yakov and Mila is cleaning her nails by the rink side. Yuri is nowhere to be found. Viktor can’t stop the excited grin on his face from the familiarity of the situation and he makes haste to the bottom of the stairway.  
  
Mila notices him first. “There’s our prince charming!” she sings as she skates up to the rink wall, watching Viktor set his bag down.  
  
“Hello my little cardinal,” Viktor croons sweetly. “You look as lovely as ever.”  
  
“Oh stop it,” Mila blushes, turning her head away. “You’re such a tease. Does your boyfriend know you sweet-talk all the ladies?”  
  
“Fiancé, actually.” Viktor corrects with a sly grin and a wink. He turns his attention to his beloved coach who has now stopped yelling at Georgi and is returning his own incredulous stare back at Viktor.  
  
“Hey Coach,” Viktor calls, making his way over. Yakov’s scowl seems to be getting more bitter with every step Viktor takes toward him. He looks particularly intimidating today. There’s something different about him, but Viktor can’t put a finger on it. His hair looks lighter, maybe it’s the white-grey really setting in?  
  
“Oh!” Viktor exclaims. “You’re lost more of your hair!”  
  
“THAT’S BECAUSE OF YOU,” Yakov rasps, face red and veins bulging. “I can’t even eat breakfast in peace without you calling me out of the blue saying you want to come back mid-season. I try and eat dinner and you call me exclaiming you can’t come back after all because ‘ _if I leave Yuuri now I’ll never recover’.”_ Yakov even imitates a high-pitched sobbing noise at the end and Mila bursts into laughter a few feet away.  
  
“That was an emergency situation, Yakov.” Viktor states matter-of-factly, affronted. “I was on a sinking ship and this captain isn’t ready to go down. I was so, so close to finally tying Yuuri up and whisking him away to Tokyo to get married.”  
  
“You can’t get married in Japan, Viktor.” Georgi calls from next to Mila. He’s come to stand witness to this live-action drama.  
  
“Las Vegas, then!” Viktor cries, slicing his hand through the air for effect. “I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking right! I’m still not thinking right. I haven’t been apart from Yuuri like this in... never, actually! I thought I could do this but now,” He sucks in a deep breath. “Now, I don’t know.”  
  
There’s an awkward air of silence amongst the Russian team. Mila and Georgi look at one another, bewildered, and Yakov sighs deeply before he takes a seat on the bench.  
  
“Viktor,” He begins. “You’re not alone. We’re your family. We’re here for you, and we’re going to help you get through this, alright? Now come here, sit down.”  
  
Viktor immediately does as told and perches next to Yakov obediently. He leans down to hide his pained expression in his coach’s sleeve. Yakov places an arm around his shoulders and shakes him gently. “I missed you, Vitya. We all did.”  
  
“I know Coach,” Viktor mumbles weakly. “I missed you all too.”  
  
The tender moment is cut short by the loud smash of something heavy slamming on the ground next to them. Viktor looks up and spots an irritated face, one he knows all too well.  
  
“Delete my number from your phone like I told you to do,” is all Yuri says before he grabs his skates from the bag and makes his way to the locker room.  
  
Viktor stares after him and Mila slaps the rink wall to grab Viktor’s attention. When he looks over she waves for him to come closer.  
  
“Out of everyone, he missed you the most.” She whispers.  
  
Viktor smiles so wide he feels like his face might split.  
  
After watching Georgi and Mila run through some basic moves, Georgi elects to run through his program privately the next day. He states he had worked hard to come up with some new moves and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise for Yuri and Viktor. Mila has already run through hers several times that day and was about to head out when Viktor showed up. Yuri opts to sit out, stating he’d work through his after Viktor performs his own new program.  
  
“Unless you feel so unconfident about it you want me to leave.” Yuri voices with poorly concealed venom. “You’ve already seen mine and watched me win gold. I don’t feel threatened by you anymore.”  
  
“Is that so?” Viktor hums, looking over Yuri’s stiff posture. It reminds him of a cat in a corner, hissing and agitated. Yuri claims he’s not intimidated but his behavior certainly betrays that. “Well then, please stay for mine. I’m sure it’s nothing that will impress you.”  
  
Yuri makes no comment but his eyes narrow and he glowers deeply. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way up the bleachers. Viktor watches him slink into a dark corner and lounge in one of the seats, his green eyes glowing in the shadows.  
  
Viktor only shakes his head fondly before he begins to lace up his skates. Yakov is sitting by the sideline, watching Viktor impatiently. Mila has taken a seat next to him and looks excited. Viktor guesses he’s stalled long enough and walks over to the stereo bedside Yakov and hands his coach his phone. He makes his way to the middle of the rink and waits for Yakov to press play.  
  
Viktor runs through it with grace, swaying through to and fro, nailing all of his step sequences and jumps. He feels like he’s doing a great job for someone who hasn’t adequately trained for half a year, but he knows something is missing. It’s nothing like how it was when Yuuri’s honey eyes were watching him.  
  
At the end, he stands panting. His eyes take in his is audience’s faces. Mila begins to clap and Yuri is so obscured by the shadows he can’t quite make out his expression. He doesn’t figure it’s anything deeming the performance praiseworthy.  
  
Yakov sits expressionless beside Mila and Viktor takes the opportunity to skate to the rink wall, bracing his hands against it and leaning forward to wait for his critique.  
  
“It’s not your best,” Yakov says finally, unexpectedly somber. Viktor had anticipated a similar response, and honestly it’s actually much tamer than he had expected. Still, hearing Yakov say it so bluntly stings a little. He makes an effort to hide it from his face, however, and smiles brightly instead.  
  
“Thank you.” He offers.  
  
“Don’t try that bullshit with me Vitya,” Yakov grumbles, back to his usual self. “You’re clearly out of practice. If you don’t improve dramatically in the next four days I’m not sure if you’ll even medal.”  
  
“Jeez, Yakov,” Mila huffs next to him. “Tell us how you really feel.”  
  
“No,” Yakov corrects, leaning forward to point a finger between them. “Viktor can’t just show up in the middle of the season with a new routine he’s never run by anyone and expect me to think it’s exemplary. If I did, it’d be an insult to all of you who have actually taken your art seriously.”  
  
Mila looks like she’s about to pipe up in Viktor’s defense, but the athlete in question stops her. “Mila, I am flattered you think so highly of me but Coach Yakov is right. It _would_ be an insult to all of you and I recognize that. I’m not sure if I necessarily agree with the inability to medal part, but I’m certainly not expecting to win gold.”  
  
His eyes travel from the two people in front of him and up the bleachers to look over Yuri. He’s still partially hidden but Viktor’s close enough to see his face, and the Russian Punk doesn’t look impressed either. Viktor flashes a smile despite Yuri’s scrutinizing gaze and his younger protégé gives a grotesque glare in return.  
  
“Well, Coach Yakov,” Viktor says with a chipper lilt. “I will be happy to listen to your critique and attempt to perfect it under your guidance. I know four days is a very short and possibly unrealistic timeframe for major change, but I’m not against at least attempting it.”  
  
Yakov looks surprised by Viktor’s suddenly receptive attitude. As long as he’s known Viktor, he’s learned the Living Legend is stubborn and can be quite difficult at times, especially when it comes to making major changes to his choreography. Yuri could also be a handful, but Mila was mild mannered and Georgi was always very perceptive to Yakov’s critique. Out of them all, Viktor had always been his prodigy, but also his problem.  
  
Viktor stays to watch Yuri run through his short program and free skate, noting he’s just as good (if not better) than at the GPF. He lands all of his jumps cleanly, even the one he flubbed at the competition.  
  
Yuri finishes and leaves wordlessly without throwing another glance Viktor’s way. Viktor believes Mila when she says Yuri missed him, but this overly aggressive behavior is really trying to convince him otherwise. Yuri has always been ill and short tempered, but he seems even more distant now.  
  
“He’s been on edge since he found out you were coming back to compete. I’m not sure why he’s so irritated… he was angry when he heard you weren’t coming back at first, but now he seems angry that you _are_ coming back.” Mila mumbles, tilting her head in an inquisitive manner. “Maybe Big Brother Vitya can talk to him and figure out why he’s being such a grouch?”  
  
Viktor hums in thought and sighs. “I don’t even know if I can do that. It seems like Yuuri has the easiest time getting through to him and Yuuri won’t be in Russia for another two weeks.”  
  
He looks over just in time to see Yakov’s jaw unhinge and drop impossibly low. “What do you mean he’s coming to Russia? Do you—do you plan to continue being his coach during your comeback?!”  
  
“Oh,” Viktor gasps innocently. “Did I forget to mention that part?”  
  
“VITYAAAA!!!”  
  
\----------------------------------------------  
  
Viktor listens to an earful of Yakov’s chiding for over fifteen minutes before he finally manages to get away. He stops by a small restaurant and grabs some carryout before heading home. When he steps through the door of his apartment he expects Makkachin to be there to greet him and is greatly disappointed when he realizes his beloved poodle is in Japan, possibly in Yuuri’s arms instead. He’s jealous of both of them.  
  
He takes a seat on his couch and throws his carryout on the coffee table before tearing into it. He knows he really needs to go to the grocery store and pick up fresh vegetables and some fruit instead of high-caloric junk food right now, but he’s tired and his jetlagged exhaustion is catching up to him now that he’s finally sitting down to rest.  
  
He turns the TV on and changes it to a random channel, not even really in the mood to watch anything. He’s almost done with his food when his phone begins to vibrate loudly next to him. He instantly grabs it, the memorized Japanese kanji of Yuuri’s name popping up.  
  
“Hello, my heart,” Viktor sings as he walks to throw the takeout container in the wastebin, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Miss me?”  
  
“ _A lot more than you think,_ ” Yuuri’s relieved tone breathes back. “ _I thought you may not be available to pick up. I wanted to text you or call but I was worried you’d still be on the airplane, or busy, or asleep or something._ ” There’s a small pause before Yuuri sighs, _“I already feel better just hearing your voice.”  
  
_ All of Viktor’s separation anxiety leaves him in a flash and a pang of pure adoration flutters through his stomach and up into his heart.  
  
“As do I, my sweet love.” He coos in response. He knows he should probably say more but he really wants to hear Yuuri’s beautiful voice right now instead of his own.  
  
“ _How is everyone? Makkachin really misses you already, I can tell. He keeps sitting in the front entrance whining at the door. I finally got him to come up and stay in my room with me and Phichit tonight, somehow. Do you want to talk to him?"_  
  
“No, no,” Viktor utters quietly, as though Makkachin may hear him. He grabs a mug from the cabinet and opens the fridge to pour a cup of mineral water he’d grabbed on his way home. “Don’t wake him up. If he hears my voice he may get anxious again. We don’t spend a lot of time away from each other, something I hope will become natural between the three of us soon.”  
  
He expects Yuuri to swoon on the other end but is met with a tense silence. Viktor’s about to ask what’s wrong when Yuuri begins, “ _About that, actually_.”  
  
Viktor stops walking and stills, listening intently.  
  
“ _I talked to a lady today when I went to renew my passport. She said it can take anywhere from two to three weeks to get an expedited VISA for Russia_.”  
  
Viktor audibly gasps in horror. “ _Three weeks??_ Oh, _solnyshko_ , please tell me this is some sort of cruel joke. Two weeks is hard enough, but three? I can’t possibly make it that long.”  
  
“ _Viktor, please, yes you can. To be honest, two weeks is really cutting it short. What she actually told me is it is may have to extend to three to five weeks between the paperwork for both Japan and Russia_.”  
  
“fuh-,” Viktor wheezes. “five. weeks.” He stumbles over to the couch and flops down, boneless and fatigued from the soul crushing news. His phone likewise flops facedown on the cushion but he can hear Yuuri’s muffled voice faintly.  
  
“ _W-what was that? Did you fall?? Are you okay?”  
  
_ Viktor can only give an exaggerated groan of despair into the cushion in response. He hears an audible huff from the phone. _  
  
“You are being really dramatic right now…_ ” It sounds like Yuuri finishes by mumbling something else but it’s so distant and muffled Viktor can’t make it out. Not apt to miss any conversation with his angel, Viktor somehow picks himself up and grabs his phone properly.  
  
“You’re right, Yuuri, I’m sorry. I know it’s been less than a full day since we’ve been apart but I really miss you already. Just when I think I’ve psyched myself up to endure two weeks without you, now you’re telling me I may have to wait longer.” Viktor sighs deeply and shakes his head, sprawling against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.  
  
“ _Well,_ ” Yuuri mutters on the other line. “ _It’s not any easier for me either, you know._ ”  
  
Viktor’s eyes pop open and he’s suddenly staring at the cream ceiling, Yuuri’s troubled tone registering.  
  
“Oh, no,” Viktor begins, leaning forward. The fact they are separated because of Viktor’s selfish decisions suddenly crashes back into his cognizance. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant—”  
  
“ _It’s okay,_ ” Yuuri interrupts softly. “ _I know. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. It’s just... I miss you too._ ”  
  
Viktor exhales and stays silent a moment, enjoying the comfortable silence between them as he listens to Yuuri’s quiet breathing. He knows he won’t be able to listen to it tonight, and although pillow-Yuuri was better than no company at all, he’s definitely no substitute.  
  
He hears Yuuri chuckle in his ear. “ _We’re a bunch of idiots, huh?”_  
  
Viktor huffs a quiet laugh in return. “Yeah, we are,” he says fondly. “Idiots in love.”  
  
\----------------------------------------------  
  
Yuuri spends Saturday, Sunday and Monday training with Phichit and Celestino at the Ice Castle. They make reservations at a hotel in Osaka ahead of time, the three men to share a room and Mari and Minako-sensei to room together. The party of five had planned to finally make the trek to Osaka that Tuesday and spend two nights on the town before Japanese Nationals started Thursday night.  
  
Although he misses Viktor, Yuuri is excited to have time with his best friend and old coach. They’d had a lot of fun together in Detroit, and unbeknownst to Viktor, Yuuri and Phichit had gotten into their fair share of trouble back in Yuuri’s college days. Yuuri may have been an awkward virgin but he was by no means innocent.  
  
He’s also thankful the championship starts two days after Russian Nationals begin. Otherwise, the time difference would make it very hard for him to stream Viktor’s performances and also get adequate sleep before his own competition. The delay in schedule allows him time to liberally watch Viktor’s short program, although he will most likely have to miss the livestream of his free program… unless he gives up sleep, which he’s likely to do.  
  
If Minako-sensei doesn’t find out.  
  
They take the flight out from Fukuoka in the early Tuesday morning to Osaka. Yuuri had tried to convince the party to take the train but Minako-sensei was having none of it. “I can’t stand trains, Yuuri, you know this” her only reason given. Since no one man had ever come out unscathed when matched with her wits, Yuuri and Phichit remained silent and nodded their heads obediently instead.  
  
Beyond that, it was no secret that Osaka was referred to as the “Nation’s Kitchen”, and although Phichit and Celestino didn’t particularly gorge themselves, they weren’t quite as strict with diet regulations as Viktor tended to be in season.  
  
“Yuuri, we’re going to eat so much good food!” Phichit had whispered in his ear excitedly, quiet as to not alert Minako-sensei. They weren’t completely home free yet.  
  
“I know,” Yuuri whispers back. “I can’t wait! But don’t upload anything to your social media accounts Phichit, Viktor will find out.”  
  
“Aww,” Phichit whines next to him, leaning back to sit midline in his seat. “Well I won’t post _everything_ , just some of it, okay?”  
  
His Japanese friend gives him a look but doesn’t argue.  
  
Yuuri has been to several large metropolitan areas due to traveling for competitive skating, but Japanese cities have always been overwhelming. He’d been to Sapporo the previous year and had been overawed, but now, walking out of the Itami airport with his luggage in tow, Yuuri realizes they may be in for a wild ride.  
  
“This place is huge,” Phichit whistles, looking around. “So many lights. I’m worried I may have a seizure.”  
  
“You’re not epileptic,” Yuuri mutters, just as bewildered. Phichit is so caught up in the traffic ahead of him he doesn’t even present a retort back.  
  
“Phichit, you’re from Bangkok, surely Osaka isn’t anything compared to what you’re used to?” Minako-sensei comments as she slaps his shoulder affectionately, rolling her suitcase to a stop. Her eyes take in the busy scenery before them too and she looks _excited_.    
  
“Osaka actually has triple the population of the Bangkok area,” Celestino declares. When the party turns to look at him, he shrugs, “read it on my phone before.”  
  
“Well,” Mari adds, “Neither city is anything compared to the Tokyo metro area. I had to go one time for business with Dad. There are more people than insects in that city.”  
  
Phichit, unexpectedly in tune with Mari’s dry sense of humor, laughs. Yuuri remembers they’re finally out of the airport and turns his phone back on, a text from Viktor immediately popping up.  
  
ー( ´ ❤ ` )ﾉ _yuri my darling how was the trip?? i miss yuuuu! send me (naughty) pics pls?  
  
^btw my face when i see you _

  
Yuuri grins at the silly text and remembers the time he showed Viktor how to use Japanese characters on his phone. Viktor had been a quick learner of Yuuri’s written native language, picking up hiragana and katakana rather easily. The kanji presented a challenge for him, of course, but there were still characters Yuuri even had to look up at times.  
  
He had been immensely impressed with Viktor’s intellect and it was a small glimpse into just how much of a genius Viktor was even when he tried to hide it behind his exaggerated goofy demeanor.  
  
He types a quick _it was okay, thanks for checking. I miss you too! no to the pictures, thanks. call me later? Vidchat?_  
  
A hand on his back places enough force to have him stumbling forward, and Yuuri looks up to realize the party is waiting patiently for him. He smiles sheepishly and grabs his bag.  
  
They take two taxis to their hotel and check in. It’s not nearly as nice as the ones he’s been in recently, of course (especially compared to the one in France), but no one in the party of five is particularly rich and they are all on a budget. Not that it was of any particular importance to Yuuri, after all, he lived in a ratty apartment for years in Detroit. It had been small, cramped, and often smelled like hamsters more than anything, but they had made it work.  
  
The room is standard with two doubles and a small bathroom. There’s a TV a lot nicer than Yuuri had expected, enough outlets for them to charge their phones and for Yuuri to be able to connect his laptop, and a small desk in the corner of the room. They put their bags down and decide to finish unpacking later. First thing’s first, they need to head to the Namihaya Dome.  
  
Minako-sensei and Mari stay behind at the hotel to unpack and grab some lunch in the hotel café while the three men make the journey. Phichit and Yuuri grab their skates, hyped to get back on professional ice.  
  
They promised each other they would only stay for a little while to get acquainted with the large dome and for Yuuri to get registered, but they have so much fun goofing around together an hour quickly turns into two and a half. It isn’t until Celestino yells from the sideline to Yuuri about his phone ringing that they snap out of their shared bliss and Yuuri skates over.  
  
Celestino leans over to hand Yuuri his phone and he briefly glances over Viktor’s name on the Skype app before he accepts it. Viktor’s heart shaped smile is immediately within his sight before there’s a “ _Yuuuuuuuuriiii!"_ coming from the speakers.  
  
Yuuri laughs and places his weight against the wall, catching his breath. “Hey, Viktor!”  
  
“ _My elusive dove, you’re glistening. What are you up to and you’ve only been in the city for an hour or so, hmm? You’re only supposed to get that soaked with me…”  
  
_ Yuuri, who had been in the midst of a swig of water, subsequently chokes. “Vik-Viktor! You’re on speaker, please!” He glances around but there’s no one near him. Celestino has disappeared and Phichit is skating around absently quite a distance away. There are spectators and a few other skaters hanging around but not within earshot. Despite this, he doesn’t feel comfortable with Viktor’s overt sexual flirting in public.  
  
“ _Okay, okay, sorry. I’ll try to contain myself. It’s just you look really hot when you’re all sweaty. Makes me think of the times when we’re together and you’re under me—“  
  
_ “VIKTOR!” Yuuri hisses, this time with a fierce glare to drive home the point. The Russian skater erupts into giggles and promises to really stop this time.  
  
“ _But you are beautiful today._ ”  
  
Yuuri gives him a fond but incredulous look and Viktor winks back at him. They chat for a moment and Yuuri skates around so Viktor can see all of the Osaka ice in all its glory.  
  
Viktor’s hair is disheveled and he’s apparently not wearing a shirt. There’s even some unshaved stubble on his chin. Yuuri isn’t used to Viktor looking so... rugged. It’s actually rather sexy.  
  
Viktor must notice because he smirks and murmurs, “ _Something on my face, Yuuri?”  
  
_ The younger lover didn’t even realize he’d stopped talking and started staring. A warm blush blossoms over his face and he turns his gaze away, looking over the ice. Phichit slides past him and does a toe loop.  
  
“No, uh,” he bumbles. “You look like you just woke up.”  
  
“ _Yes, I know,_ ” Viktor drawls off into a long yawn. “ _I really did just wake up. It’s still morning here, but I did sleep in. I was more tired than I thought. Well, I woke up and texted you this morning and then fell back to sleep, anyway. Makkachin doesn’t usually let me sleep past our usual morning routine so I took the opportunity._ ” With a pause and another yawn, Viktor moves to rub the sleep from his eyes.  
  
Yuuri has once again stopped skating and started staring despite himself. Viktor really just looks so… handsome like this. He never looked like this back at the inn.  
  
Viktor flashes an innocent and shy smile at Yuuri through the screen. “ _You know, if you press your home screen button twice you can take a snapshot of our chat for later since you seem so enchanted right now. You’re making me blush, Yuuri, please stop it~~"_  
  
Yuuri sputters and clears his throat. He happens to notice Phichit throwing SOS signs at him across the ice, pointing at his watch. Yuuri glances to the time on his phone and realizes it’s been far longer than they had planned being at the dome. Minako-sensei and Mari are probably growing impatient. Celestino is still nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Viktor, I think I’m being summoned. Phichit looks like he’s trying to wave down a plane to save us right now.” He turns the phone to show Viktor and Phichit’s waving arms immediately curl around him as he does an impromptu basic spin. It’s rather impressive.  
  
“ _Oh, is he competing too?"_ Viktor’s amused voice croons. Yuuri turns his phone back and Viktor blows him a kiss. “ _You do look beautiful today, Yuuri. Did I tell you I missed you? And, I love you._ ”  
  
“I love you too, Viktor.” Yuuri murmurs softly. “Talk to you later?”  
  
“ _Always. Adieu, mon amour_.” Click.  
  
Phichit ushers Yuuri out of the building and into the street. Celestino is sitting on a rail talking on his phone and motions to the two skaters to come over. He hails them a cab back to the hotel.  
  
They meet up with Mari and Minako-sensei who have already eaten and even done a little shopping in a small souvenir stand across the street. They all decide to do some proper shopping and sightseeing before grabbing some dinner and heading back to the hotel for the night.  
  
The party decides Dotonbori would be the best place to start and visit the many colorful shops and stores. Phichit takes countless photos with every person and several of them in a group, and even takes a few with random people on the street. He spends a large amount of time reposting them online. Yuuri checks out the cringeworthy Engrish shirts and debates on buying one while Mari marvels over some posters and merchandise of her favorite KPOP group.  
  
Yuuri becomes unbelievably flustered when a duo of young girls bashfully ask for his autograph and he stumbles awkwardly through it, but manages somehow. There’s a flash and Phichit looks apprehended when Yuuri snaps his head toward him. “Don’t you even—“  
  
Viktor texts him several minutes later. _yuri you are so cute when youre embarrassed sooo かわいい!!  
  
_ They’re walking into the restaurant when the text pops up. He smacks Phichit’s back in annoyance and his Thai friend stumbles into a barstool. “Oops,” Yuuri whispers. A young foreign couple gives them a scandalized look.  
  
Celestino laughs quietly and Minako-sensei hisses “quit it!”    
  
They take a seat in the back around an oval table. Yuuri is rather excited because it's been a while since he’s shared an adventurous meal with anyone other than Viktor. They’ve been so consumed in one another since the Grand Prix Final he’s all but ignored the other people in his life. He feels a jolt of longing mixed with a little guilt and wonders if Viktor is feeling lonely in Russia or if he is just as happy to be with his friends again too.  
  
Though he must admit, he’s been impressed with Viktor’s willpower. His overly affectionate lover has only texted him a handful of times and only called him once since he's been in Osaka, Yuuri calling him the other time. He knows they’ve only been apart for roughly 96 hours but he had anticipated his phone blowing up around the clock. Viktor must either be actively reeling in his compulsive behaviors or he’s been so busy he hasn’t had time to think about Yuuri.  
  
Yuuri hopes it’s the later.  
  
They’ve invested in a restaurant that serves a wide variety of foods and they tear into some okonomiyaki and sashimi. Yuuri indulges himself with the promise he’ll eat better tomorrow and Phichit posts a picture of his Korean barbeque. Yuuri half expects Viktor to text him, reprimanding their choice of food pre-tournament, but the text never comes. It’s well into the afternoon in St. Petersburg and he’s probably busy training.  
  
Yuuri internally scolds himself for allowing his idle thoughts to stray back to Viktor again. He’ll have plenty of time to think of him tonight.  
  
They finish up dinner and are so full they all opt to go back to the hotel and get some sleep with the promise to Minako-sensei they’d hit up a famous bar the following night and eventually go clubbing after nationals.  
  
Without incident, they return to their hotel and their respective rooms. Celestino takes the first shower, Phichit follows and then Yuuri. He takes a moment to look into the mirror and takes in his appearance. He looks a little worn but overall much better than he imagined. He’s impressed he’s made it this far without a debilitating panic attack and the thought almost sends him into one.  
  
He brushes his teeth and makes his way to their shared room, Celestino already lightly snoring in his bed and Phichit quietly browsing through his phone. He’s left the right side of the bed for Yuuri and appears to be slipping into the realm of sleep himself.  
  
Yuuri settles next to him and turns to his side. “Goodnight, Phichit” he yawns groggily. His phone buzzes at his side and a quick glance presents a final text from Viktor.  
  
_goodnight, my darling yuri.  
  
_ He dreams of silver hair and soft hands.  
  
\-------------------------------------------  
  
The next day has Phichit, Celestino and Yuuri up before the girls and back at the dome for practice. Yuuri had spent the very early remnants of dawn getting his costumes in order: his purple dancewear, black suit and his dusky blue glittering Stammi Viccino replica.  
  
The roster places Yuuri performing his short program Friday night and his Free Skate Sunday night, December 25th, Viktor’s birthday. Yuuri hopes with his entire being Viktor can make it to perform the exhibition, but relishes in the thought even if he’s late they may still yet have a few hours that night to celebrate his birthday.  
  
Viktor had been known for being pampered and selfish, his own coach even going as far as to state that to the media, but Yuuri feels lightheaded by the idea Viktor is skipping all celebratory events in Russia to fly back to Japan (without any sleep) just to perform his exhibition with him.  
  
On another note, Yuuri hasn’t had any luck coming up with a birthday gift for his older lover. What do you get a man who seems to have it all? Time and time again Viktor has stated he only wants Yuuri, but what kind of gift is that? By all means, Yuuri is plain and boring outside of the ice. Attempts at being seductive are usually short lived and brief due to his self-consciousness and naturally subdued nature.  
  
He could get drunk and try to woo Viktor with his intoxicated straightforwardness, but then he likely wouldn’t remember that night. Christmas is a romantic holiday in Japan and also happens to be Viktor’s birthday as well, so he’s not willing to forgo warm memories for drunken confidence.  
  
After Yuuri finishes his practice, he takes a minute while waiting for the cab to look at the Russian national roster for the second day of the championship. He’s relieved to see Viktor is performing tonight and although it’ll be eleven-thirty PM in the Japanese time zone, since Yuuri is not performing the next day he can stay up to livestream it on his computer.  
  
He also realizes with horror it’s almost afternoon and he hasn’t texted or called Viktor to wish him luck. With the time zone difference, it’s morning in Russia and Yuuri recollects warmheartedly about Viktor’s tendency to sleep in until the last minute before competitions, much to Yakov’s chagrin.  
  
He contemplates what to text, or if he really should just go ahead and call, or if he should video call, but Phichit whistles to gain his attention when the cab is there and distracts him from his thoughts. They head back to the hotel to gather some things and soon join up with Mari and Minako-sensei to continue their exploration of Osaka. They get lost a few times and even argue about which bar to go to that night, but it’s fun and exciting nonetheless. The evening comes quickly and they end up at a modern western bar in the heart of downtown.  
  
It doesn’t take an hour and Minako-sensei is plastered, rowdy, loud and obnoxious. Mari doesn’t even attempt to try and keep her calm, only sits back and watches with an amused smirk.  
  
Celestino has downed his own share of alcohol but seems completely unfazed, very unlike him.  
  
“Ciao-Ciao is acting really reserved tonight.” Phichit pouts. Apparently he’d gotten his fair share of likes the last time he’d uploaded a post of Celestino blitzed out. He'd gotten even more when he uploaded a picture of a half-naked Viktor all over Yuuri, back when Yuuri and Viktor hadn’t even shared their first (very public) kiss yet.  
  
“Maaaaaari-chan,” Minako-sensei sings, half in her chair and half on the floor. “Phishhhh-kun.”  
  
Phichit turns to see what she wants but Yuuri shakes his head. “She doesn’t want anything, she’s just saying your name.”  
  
A voluptuous bartender makes her way over to Yuuri and Phichit who have since migrated from their table to the bar. Phichit is enjoying a sweet, lightly alcoholic drink and Yuuri has vowed to stay away from any booze because he knows what happens when he gets even a little tipsy. He’s not on the roster to compete until the next night—but he’s not taking any chances.  
  
“So, are you from around here?” She asks, all bright blue eyes and dark black hair. She’s very pretty, but Yuuri has never had any particular interest in women past his childhood crush on Yuuko. He’s sure if Viktor was here she’d be even more flirtatious, as most beautiful women tended to be. Viktor was ridiculously good looking… well, she would be if Minako-sensei hadn’t gotten to him first.  
  
“I’m from Thailand,” Yuuri hears Phichit chirp. Their idle chitchat becomes background noise to Yuuri as he pulls his phone out. It’s night in Osaka, which makes it late afternoon/early evening in Yekaterinburg, Russia. Yuuri is sure Viktor must be up and getting ready for his short program at this point. In fact, it may be too late to send him a text or call.  
  
Yuuri takes a chance anyway. He sends a simple, sweet message conveying his excitement and wishes Viktor luck, although he doubts Viktor will need it. Yuri P. is set to perform the same night and Yuuri makes a mental note to text him before his performance too, even though he's not likely to answer.  
  
He's about to turn his attention back to Phichit when his phone jingles back almost instantaneously. It’s a short and curt response but yet it sends a warm feeling fluttering through Yuuri’s belly. _  
  
thank you_ любовь моя _. call you in a few minutes? ;)  
  
_ He's immediately excited at the prospect of speaking with his lover before Viktor’s performance, but wonders worriedly in the back of his mind if Viktor should spare even a few moments for them to speak.  
  
He places his phone in his pocket and decides to mull over what to say over drinks with Phichit.  
  
“You’re pretty cute,” he tunes back just in time to hear the bartender purr. He snaps his head back in Phichit’s direction and watches as she runs a manicured finger down Phichit’s wrist.  “I just love tan boys.”  
  
Phichit flashes a smile and purrs right back, “Me too.”  
  
Yuuri chokes on his drink. The girl’s flirtatious smile fades immediately and she scoffs, throwing them a confused glare while walking away. Yuuri can tell she’s embarrassed. He’s embarrassed too. Phichit, not so much.  
  
“P-Phichit,” Yuuri coughs, attempting to maintain his airway. “Are you really? I mean, are you really into guys—“  
  
Phichit swats away the rest of his sentence nonchalantly. “It’s not about gender, Yuuri. It’s about love. Besides, I was just messing with her. Kind of.” His best friend stirs his drink thoughtfully. “Maybe. I wish I had the nerve to ask you out in Detroit but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over my crush. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”  
  
Yuuri is quiet, trying to comprehend what exactly Phichit’s saying to him.  
  
“You… you liked me?” It hits him like a bullet train. He gasps loudly. “ME?”  
  
“Yeah, I did.” Phichit says quietly, contemplatively, unfazed by Yuuri’s shock. “And I still do, too, just a more platonic love this time. It’s amazing how oblivious you are sometimes. I wasn’t the only one interested, you know? The girl from our class who composed Yuri on Ice also wanted to ask you for a date. She said she thought maybe she freaked you out and that’s why you started to avoid her.”  
  
“No, no, no,” Yuuri says, swiveling in his barstool nervously. “I just… things got awkward, and you know how I am. I, uh, run from confrontation, awkwardness, all those things.”  
  
“I know,” Phichit says softly in return. “I felt like I needed to protect you from the world, even though you’re older. But not anymore. I’m not worried because I know how strong you are, and to top it all off, I think Viktor would swim across oceans to get to you. It’s crazy how your untouchable idol is the one who can’t keep his hands off of you now. Funny how life works.”  
  
Yuuri babbles with a blossoming blush, and stutters, “I-I know, I know. I, uh,” He stops and Phichit waits patiently for him to pull himself together and continue.  
  
He does after a moment, and sighs, “Sometimes it feels like a dream and I’m scared I’ll wake up and it was all in my head. I’ve admired and idolized Viktor for as long as I can remember. He’s always been an unreachable fantasy but now he’s there when I wake up and when I go to sleep. He’s there when I succeed and when I fail. Somehow, for some reason, he chose me. He still chooses me.”  
  
Phichit raps his fingers along the edge of the bar, leaning back. “Well, Yuuri, I was told he’s been interested in you since the 2015 Grand Prix Banquet.”  
  
Yuuri looks at him all wide eyes and pink blushes. “No way!! I mean, Viktor's mentioned something like that before, b-but...”  
  
“Yes way! Christophe said Viktor was a changed man after that night and even admitted he looked for you afterward. He wasn’t able to find you though. Apparently you had disappeared without a trace.” Phichit takes a sip of his drink and taps his phone gently, checking it quickly before looking back at Yuuri.  
  
Yuuri breathes out a nervous laugh. “Haah, yeah… I don’t remember any of that night.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Phichit snickers, then continues. “Chris said Viktor was smitten with you from the start, adored you as his pupil, and now he’s obsessed with you as his _lover_ ~~~”  
  
Yuuri scowls thoughtfully for a brief second before he says anything. “Obsessed? I wouldn’t say that. He is incredibly childish at times and very needy, constantly requiring attention and brooding if I don’t give it to him. He acts that way with everyone though, even Makkachin. One time Makkachin was too busy eating dinner when Viktor called him and it almost killed Viktor. I really thought he may hit the floor and die.”  
  
“Wow, really?” Phichit asks with brows high.  
  
“Yeah,” Yuuri sighs. “That’s the true Living Legend in all his glory.”  
  
Phichit laughs airily, the image of the famed athlete keeling over on the floor in his mind. Although he hasn’t been witness to these behaviors himself, Yuuri had told him enough stories to give Phichit an idea.  
  
Yuuri sighs with effort and looks around before leaning toward Phichit and pulling his phone out.  
  
“Look, I’m going to show you this, but you can’t utter a word of it to anybody—especially Viktor.” He whispers.  
  
Phichit is interested. “Oh yeah?”  
  
Yuuri nods, flips through his pictures and taps the screen, handing his phone to Phichit. “This is what he bought the other day before he left back for Russia.”  
  
Phichit knocks his drink over. “Is that a pillow of you??”  
  
“ _Shhh_ ,” Yuuri hisses, smacking Phichit on the arm. “yes, it is. I can’t believe it either. How embarrassing.”  
  
Phichit attempts to hide his bubbling laughter behind his hand, eyes sparkling. He hands Yuuri back the phone. “Where’d he find that? I want one too.”  
  
“ _Phichiiiit!!_ ”  
  
Minako-sensei has since made her way over to some strangers at a table and has been drinking with them until they’re also blasted drunk. Mari is still at their original spot, leaning back against a chair and flipping through her own phone with dull interest.

Yuuri is about to get up and go sit with her when he hears Phichit gasp next to him as he rushes toward the other end of the bar, attempting to shake an unbelievably drunk Celestino to consciousness. “ _Ciao Ciao, get yourself together!!_ Wait, Yuuri, hold my drink.” _click, SNAP!_ “Celestino!! You were fine ten minutes ago!”    
  
They make it out of the bar somehow and hail a cab for Mari, Minako-sensei and Celestino. “It’s fine, I’ll handle these two,” Mari grunts as she tries to hull both drunk fools into the back of a cab. “Do you want another car or do you want to walk?”  
  
It’s cold, but it’s not unbearable, and the walk back to the hotel isn’t very far. After Mari assures them both she can handle “these fools” adequately by herself, they wave goodbye to the taxi as it drives off into the chilly Osaka night.  
  
Phichit turns to give a quick glance to Yuuri and possibly make a joke but notices the tense expression on Yuuri’s face as he’s staring at his own phone.  
  
“Yuuri?”  
  
“Oh,” the other startles. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just, uh, was waiting for Viktor to call. I guess he’s busy after all. I mean, his short program is tonight.”  
  
Phichit is about to say something to hopefully help relieve Yuuri’s tension but his friend is already zoned back out, scrolling through what looks like Yuuri and Viktor’s preexisting text conversation. He turns his attention back to his own phone, uploading another picture of Celestino to Instagram.  
  
He reflects back on what he used to say to help soothe a nervous Yuuri back in Detroit. Yuuri was kind and thoughtful to everyone and he always tried to show consideration and trust in Phichit, but even then, their close relationship wasn’t enough for Yuuri to entirely unwind. There had always been a distance between them no matter how close they became. Phichit wonders if Viktor has managed to bridge that distance.  
  
As though reading his mind, Yuuri speaks up quietly. “Phichit, about earlier,” The Thai skater looks up from his phone and over to Yuuri, who he realizes looks serious. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice your feelings… in Detroit. You were always there for me, and even now, you’ll answer my call at any time of the night. If I had known, I would have uhm,” he flushes. “Asked you out too, maybe.”  
  
Phichit snorts and rubs Yuuri’s arm affectionately. “I would have loved that, but we are best friends and that’s the way it was meant to be.” He pauses, a small blush of his own on his high cheekbones. “… and, now, there’s the daughter of a craftsman in Bangkok who I’ve been texting lately. Her name is Pensri. I’m thinking of inviting her to come with me to the Four Continents, if you’d like to meet her.”  
  
“Of course!” Yuuri gasps and beams. “That’s a beautiful name. I’d love nothing more.”  
  
They continue walking, the hotel coming into view.  
  
After tomorrow night is Yuuri’s short program and a chance for gold. For the first time without Viktor by his side to hold him up, Yuuri feels like he can take this huge step forward by himself and achieve his dream with his own determination. This is a place Yuuri never, ever thought he’d be.  
  
“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit adds. “She’s a huge fan of yours.”  
  
Yuuri trips over nothing.  
  
\---------------------------------------------------  
  
Since they have nowhere to be super early the next morning, Phichit and Yuuri set up the laptop to stream Russian Nationals. There’s an impressive line-up for the final night for short programs and the roster has Yuri and Viktor both competing tonight, with Viktor going first amongst the two. Georgi had performed the night before and scored rather well. It’ll be very late in the morning when Yuri competes and Yuuri promises himself he’ll watch the uploaded video on YouTube the next morning.     
  
Viktor doesn’t call or text Yuuri back, but he’s actually a little relieved by this. It means Viktor really is taking this seriously. He even contemplates texting Yurio but feels too intimidated to even try.  
  
They have drinks and some snacks laid out next to them and Celestino is passed out in the next bed, so they take the liberty to turn the volume up. Minako-sensei is apparently fast asleep in the next room as well, and once Mari makes sure she’s still alive and breathing, she makes her way to the boy’s room to take part in the viewing of the livestream. The connection is slow and there’s some lag, but Yuuri doesn’t care, he just wants to see Viktor skate.  
  
“Are you nervous?” Phichit asks, voice garbled by a Thai snack he’d brought from home. He reaches over Yuuri to hand the bag to Mari. Yuuri politely declines, stomach churning.  
  
“Uhm,” Yuuri manages, feeling a wave of nausea hit him. “Yeah, I think so.”    
  
The announcer booms over the intercom in Russian and the scores for the previous skaters appear on the screen.  
  
“Aww,” Phichit whines next to him. “This stream doesn’t have English commentary. What the heck, man. These Russian servers are a joke.”  
  
There’s more Russian in what Yuuri assumes to be the preamble to Viktor’s entry when the only intelligible thing he hears is “VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!”  
  
The cheer of the crowd is so loud Phichit jumps and Mari cringes. Phichit hastily decreases the volume and looks over to Celestino, but his coach is still in an untouchable drunken stupor and hasn’t moved. It almost looks like he’s foaming at the mouth.  
  
The camera spans to Viktor and Yakov, the Russian legend smiling at the crowd with his characteristic and professional sparkling beam. He’s got his famed white and red Russian jacket on with what appears to be a black outfit underneath. He waves one more time as the announcer continues in Russian and turns to slip his jacket off, handing it to Yakov.  
  
Yuuri keels. Phichit chokes. Mari gasps.  
  
Viktor steps onto the ice in some sort of… black velvet catsuit with royal blue accents spanning across his abdomen. There’s a corset lace pattern running down the sides of his slender trunk and the outfit hugs all the right places. It, of course, brings out his aquamarine eyes and matches his famed Russian skates. His fringe is combed to the side, entire face visible for the world to see.  
  
If it’s possible, the crowd roars even louder.  
  
“Wow, that’s an outfit,” Phichit chortles next to Yuuri. The Japanese youth is speechless and just stares blankly. Next to him, Mari leans back with wide eyes.  
  
“Minako-sensei is going to be pissed she missed this.” She mutters absently, eyes trained on the laptop screen.  
  
“Viktor!” Yuuri finally gasps, leaning forward. “It’s so, so—blergofghver,” he sputters unintelligibly, wheezing.  
  
“Tight?” Phichit suggests, leaning forward too. “I can’t tell where his skin begins and the outfit ends. I do like the lace, though. Leave it to the Living Legend to come back with a bang! HAH! Look at Coach Yakov’s face!!”  
  
“Yuuri, are you okay?” Mari asks with concern, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him gently. He only makes a weak, whimpering noise in return.  
  
There’s silence and the music for the short program begins, and Yuuri realizes he’s only seen Viktor run through his free skate at the Ice Castle before. The dumbfounded trio sit through the brief performance with majestic wonder and Yuuri is sure he forgets to breathe at one point. Viktor skates it flawlessly, like some sort of icy phoenix, and lands every jump with precision. If there is any difference at all, Yuuri thinks with overwhelming reverence, he’s lost just a bit of speed and strength.  
  
At the end, Viktor stops and bows. There’s a tense few seconds of silence before the crowd goes crazy.  
  
Viktor stands tall, proud, and places a hand on his hip, brilliant white smile on display for the whole world.  
  
He, of course, places first.  
  
The trio say nothing for a long moment while watching Viktor pat Yakov’s shoulder with what appears to be an unbelievably genial look on his face. His coach doesn’t look impressed.  
  
“Wow,” Phichit begins, but there’s a loud banging noise in the hallway and they all turn their alert attention to the door when it bursts open.

“NOOOOO,” Minako-sensei wails in despair, throwing herself on top of all three. “DON’T TELL ME I MISSED IT OH GAWD.”  
  
Yuuri doesn’t get much sleep that night.  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
The next morning, dawn creeps into the hotel room with its pastel colors of pink, yellow and orange, painting the dull white room in a soft golden hue. Quiet snores fill the air and Yuuri lies squished in the middle of the bed with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.  
  
Next to him, Phichit is almost hanging off the bed and on the other side Mari is tucked in a ball. Celestino never stirred during the night and Minako-sensei is sprawled out at the bottom of his bed, pillow over her face and blanket covering her unmoving form.  
  
Yuuri feels like he has a one-hundred-pound weight on his sternum.  
  
He crawls over Phichit and accidently knees him in the chest, but his friend only whines and turns over, snuggling into the warmth and space left behind in Yuuri’s departure. Despite knowing the time difference, Yuuri grabs his phone and heads into the hall, pressing Viktor’s contact info, a picture of him from when they were in France.  
  
There’s a half moment of unanswered ringing and Yuuri is ready to wilt despite being well aware of what time it is in Russia. It’s selfish, and he knows Viktor is probably exhausted, but if there’s even a slight chance he’s still awake…. Yuuri wants to talk to him.  
  
He’s about to give up when there’s a beep and a groggy “…. Yes?” on the other line.  
  
Yuuri can’t control the relieved sigh that escapes him and he whispers, “Viktor?”  
  
“ _Hmmm_ ,” a lazy, cat-like voice purrs in his ear. “ _Not quite. Guess again_.”  
  
Yuuri furrows his brow. He knows this voice.  
  
“C-,” he coughs. “Christophe??”  
  
“ _Bingo!"_ Comes the husky and playful voice of the notorious playboy. “ _Viktor is currently getting his beauty sleep after a few too many drinks. He didn’t even notice his phone ringing on his chest! I guess he fell asleep looking at it last night, although I wonder why? Hmm_ ~~~❤ _Could it be a certain spicy bowl of katsudon?”_  
  
“Vi-Viktor…” Yuuri mumbles, guilt washing through him. Viktor _would_ wait for Yuuri’s call, wouldn’t he? Even though he knows Yuuri’s short program isn’t the next day and Yuuri has nowhere in particular to be in the morning.  
  
_I didn’t want to bother him when he’s celebrating_ Yuuri thinks miserably. He would have gladly woken up in the middle of the night to talk to Viktor had he been the one to call.  
  
Instead, he waited for Yuuri. Christophe already has a natural tendency to make Yuuri feel guilt-ridden over Viktor anyway, but now he really feels like trash.  
  
“ _Relax, Yuuri_ ,” Christophe murmurs sweetly. “ _Viktor really did have a bit too much to drink last night and he was out within minutes_.”  
  
Yuuri breathes out audibly. It doesn’t make the sorrow go completely away, but it helps. “Uhm, well, I guess I should call back later then?”  
  
“ _It is two thirty in the morning_ ,” Christophe reminds him gently. “ _but, Viktor’s free skate isn’t for another two days and he will murder me in the morning if he wakes and finds I didn’t let him speak to his darling_.”  
  
Yuuri laughs nervously and strains to listen to Christophe’s attempts to rouse Viktor, but there’s only garbled mumbling in the background as a response.  
  
“ _Hmm? He’s really out this time. Sorry, Yuuri~”_  
  
The Japanese skater gulps and feels a bead of sweat run from his crown and down to his chin. He’s a nervous wreck right now.  
  
“ _Oh? Nothing to say?”_ Christophe hums. “ _No questions?”_  
  
Actually, Yuuri has a fuckton of questions, he just can’t transport them from his brain to his mouth at this moment.  
  
He attempts to speak but a strange mangle of disconnected syllables come out instead. He’s ready to metamorphosize into a cocoon where he can remerge as a beautiful butterfly and fly away from bullshit.  
  
“ _No need to be nervous, although I must admit, and you surely already know, we have spent some nights together as playmates. Tonight, I am just an innocent supporter and fan. Viktor is very serious about you and wouldn’t even think of it, sweet Yuuri. No worries!”_  
  
Christophe, for what it’s worth, can be just as saccharine sweet as he can be cruel. Yuuri deflates immediately.  
  
“A-ah, okay,” Yuuri manages. He realizes he hasn’t actually spoken a real, proper sentence almost the whole conversation. He’s ready to end it, actually. “Well, uhm, tell him I called? _Thankyoubye!"_  
  
He clicks the cancel button ten times before he stops and takes a deep breath. This is not what he wanted to hear first thing in the morning.  
  
With a lightning speed, Yuuri changes into some workout clothes in the bathroom and throws on his shoes. Mari wakes slightly and mumbles “…Yuuri?” as the door shuts behind him.

He takes a long jog, nervous, jittery and shaking with tremors the whole time.  
  
There’s a shopping district not too far away with stores and bars lining a river and Yuuri stops and window shops for a moment, looking for something which might be anywhere near worthy as a birthday gift for Viktor. There’s only a few more days until Christmas and Yuuri has no ideas and he’s too awkward to breech the topic with anyone else just yet.  
  
And, once again, if he asked Viktor, he knows what kind of response he’d get.  
  
Defeated, he returns to the hotel room and finds Mari and Minako-sensei have disappeared. Phichit appears to be gone as well and Celestino is on his own laptop doing what looks to be business related activities.  
  
“Ciao ciao!” He greets with a smile, as though he hadn’t been in a comatose state the night before. “Minako said to go ahead and get ready. She wants to hit the town one more time before we head to nationals.”  
  
Yuuri does just that. He checks his phone one more time but there’s no new messages. He fights against a frown and attempts to clear any anxiety threatening to spill over into his thoughts. Yuuri has his good days and his bad days, but since meeting Viktor he’s definitely had more good days than ever before.  
  
But the situation he’s been attempting to avoid contemplating is finally spinning itself into reality. Yuuri is going to compete in Japanese Nationals without his coach and lover by his side, against the same skaters who left him in the dust the year before, and Viktor is curled up in a hotel room with a Swiss Sex God.  
  
The last part isn’t even the fact Chris and Viktor are sharing a room together, because Yuuri knows without a doubt Viktor would never betray him in any form. He’s sure the thought has never even occurred to his goofy mate. He’s just worried their time alone may yield Chris attempting to convince Viktor to come back to skating for good, and in order to do that, he’d have to leave Yuuri behind.  
  
The thought kills him.  
  
This may be a bad day.  
  
There’s a knock on the door when he startles from staring at his reflection, eyes hooded and miserable. Phichit’s back and his chipper and oblivious voice calls from the other side urging him to hurry so they can go.  
  
Yuuri dresses quickly and leaves with Phichit and Celestino, Mari and Minako-sensei already waiting for them in the lobby. They head out to do some more exploring. They eventually take a break in the park and hit up a food stand, sitting at the wooden picnic bench. Phichit is talking animatedly to Celestino about the upcoming participants in the first night of the Japanese Nationals.  
  
Yuuri peers longingly at his phone again before he mentally slaps himself and tries to pull himself together. He turns the volume down and places it in his pocket, resolute to focus on the company at hand.  
  
“Oh, Yuuri, did you know Minami Kenjirou is going to skate tonight? Isn’t that great! He’s a big fan of yours, right?” Phichit asks nonchalantly, turning his attention to the quiet skater.  
  
“Uuuuuh,” Yuuri says dumbly, trying to organize his thoughts. “OH! Minami-kun??”  
  
“Yeah, Kenjirou.” Phichit gives him a strange look. “You okay?”  
  
“Yes, yes, yes! Of course I am, haha, so he’s skating tonight? Isn’t that nice, it will be good to see how he’s progressed in these last few months….” Yuuri’s cheerful introduction tapers off into a mumble. Mari peers at him questioningly over her drink and Phichit just stares, confused. Yuuri’s about to pipe up an excuse of some sort as to his strange behavior but doesn’t quite get the chance.  
  
Strong hands grip the lapels of his jacket and pull him forward and into the table. He makes a startled yelp and is met face to face with Minako-sensei’s unrelenting stare. “Yuuri,” she drawls, dangerous tone. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Uh, uhm, I-I,” He stammers, unable to formulate a response.  
  
“Yuuri! Your short program isn’t even until tomorrow night and you’re already withdrawing into yourself! You’re not alone. Every single one of us came here for you!”  
  
The words hit Yuuri like a ton of bricks and his owlish gaze turns into one of comprehension. That’s right, five people have taken time out of their lives to come and support him in the absence of his coach. And really, even if Viktor had been able to be here, they most likely still would have come as a support system anyway.  
  
The thought melts him into a sentimental fool. He thinks he may tear up and he feels like his nose is already running. “M-Minako-sensei!”  
  
She gives him a tender smile before she squeals and withdrawals away rapidly, her strong hold on Yuuri suddenly gone. With no support, he smashes into the table.  
  
“WHOA,” Phichit shouts, cups overturning and liquid gushing everywhere.  
  
Minako-sensei shakes her hand vigorously. The small insect which had perched on her wrist flies away into the afternoon sun. “Oh no, YUURI?!”  
  
Yuuri doesn’t even bother to get up when Phichit’s hands are trying to dab tea from his jacket and shirt. He stares at the orange and red leaves covering the ground, the bright sun shining down on this chilly day. He wonders where he went wrong.  
  
They stop at a clothing store Minako-sensei swore she read had wonderful prices, and drags Mari with her despite Mari’s disinterest in fashion. “Mari-chan, a beautiful, unmarried girl like you needs a new wardrobe.” Despite the protests, and even after pointing out Minako-sensei is unmarried too, she’s dragged in anyway.  
  
Phichit has wandered off to take a picture of an attraction a few yards away and Celestino trails after him like an owner keeping an eye on their overexcited puppy. It leaves Yuuri alone and he appreciates the solitude. He spends the moment of silence looking over the glistening winter river.  
  
Yuuri leans against the outer wall of the store while he waits for the girls and pulls his phone out. When he presses the home screen he’s horrified to realize he’s missed two calls from Viktor. Apparently he’d accidentally put his phone on silent earlier.  
  
There’s a single text message from two minutes ago. _yuri?? i cant believe i missed your call please call me back  
  
_ Yuuri gulps and hesitates, stock still and whirring with thoughts of what exactly he’s supposed to say to Viktor.  
  
Good job? You did wonderful? You looked great? Who designed that outfit for you? Just when did you decide to share a hotel room with a bona fide European sex symbol?  
  
He shakes the thought from his head. Well, he doesn’t doubt Viktor’s love, really, but… Chris did mention they’d had a previous history together. Unlike Viktor’s completely unfounded jealousy toward Celestino, Viktor and Christophe had actually been intimate before.  
  
_I’m not jealous_ , Yuuri thinks sullenly. _I’m just…. worried. What if Chris convinces Viktor to release me as his pupil? What if Viktor already decided he didn’t want to coach anymore after performing in nationals again last night? What if he regrets leaving and coming to Hasetsu after all?  
  
What could I possibly say to make him stay?  
  
_ In his hand, his phone vibrates again. His eyes snap down to see Viktor’s photo on his screen.  
  
He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and answers the call.  
  
“Viktor?”  
  
“ _YUUUUUUUUUURI!!”_ a despaired wail blasts from the phone. Yuuri jerks so hard in surprise he smacks his head into the stone wall behind him. “ _My sweetest, most darling angel, how did I possibly miss a call from you??”  
  
_ Well, for starters, Yuuri thinks it may be the fact he called Viktor at two thirty in morning.  
  
“Sorry for calling you in the middle of the night,” Yuuri apologizes bashfully. In hindsight, it was rather childish and selfish of him to do so.  
  
“ _Yuuri,_ ” Viktor’s suddenly serious and hardened tone comes through the phone. “ _You call me at any time of any day no matter the circumstance. I will always answer you._ ”  
  
Yuuri feels a wave of honey-thick fondness wash through his body. It makes him feel relieved, loved and cherished. Most of all, it makes him feel calm. “Okay,” he breathes.  
  
“ _Except for last night_ ,” Viktor adds. “ _Did Christophe really try and wake me?_ ”  
  
“Yes!” Yuuri laughs, no longer as paranoid or troubled as he was only a minute earlier. “He really did, I heard him doing it. You mumbled and rolled back over, apparently. I would have loved to hear what you said to him.”  
  
Viktor gives a defeated sigh on the other end. “ _Probably begging Makkachin to let me sleep a little longer, or something like that. Beyond that, onto much more important matters, how are you feeling? Is the roster up? Are you performing tonight? Have you been sleeping? Have you been eating? Yuuri, really, I’ll get on a plane and fly straight to Japan if you need me, consequences be damned_ —”  
  
“Viktor!” Yuuri says harshly in an attempt to get the other man to stop. It works. “Viktor, I am fine. Yes, I have eaten, I have slept, I’ve even bathed, and my short program isn’t until tomorrow night… I’m fine, Viktor, really.”  
  
A long, drawn-out sigh is exhaled on the other line and Viktor utters in a hushed voice, “ _Oh, thank God.  Okay, that’s good_.” There’s a pause. “ _I’m sorry I can’t be there yet, my Yuuri_.”  
  
Yuuri smiles at the concrete sidewalk and shuffles his foot absently. “It’s okay, Viktor, really. I got to livestream your performance last night with Mari and Phichit. It was amazing. You looked great in your, uh,” he falters for the right word. “skintight…?”  
  
“ _Catsuit_ ,” Viktor finishes. “ _Thank you, my darling. It invigorates me to know you enjoyed the performance and found my outfit appealing. Did it make you excited?_ ” Viktor’s voice morphs into a husky purr when he says, “ _Do you want me to wear it again for you when we’re alone?”_  
  
“No!” Yuuri coughs, red as a beet and looking around to make sure no one is listening. Viktor’s not even on speaker right now and he’s making Yuuri feel like he's on fire. “I don’t need that.”  
  
Viktor giggles but doesn’t continue. “ _I’m truly glad you enjoyed it, Yuuri, but I can’t wait until you see my Free Skate. I’ve been really practicing for it and I must admit the old saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ is true because I’m overfilled with my burning longing for you!”_  
  
_Well,_ Yuuri thinks with an eye roll, _at least he’s back to his normal, goofy self now.  
  
_ “Yes, yes,” Yuuri agrees sweetly. “I can’t wait to see it too. I saw tonight is the first night of free skates but I haven't actually looked at the schedule yet. My short program is tomorrow but it’ll mean I can stay up and watch your free skate.”  
  
“ _Actually, Yuuri_ ,” Viktor begins. “ _I’m not on the roster to free skate and neither is Yuri until the 24 th. You may be able to see Georgi’s program tomorrow night, though_.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Yuuri responds, disappointment evident in his voice. “Uhm, well, Minami is skating tonight!”  
  
“ _Oh?”_ Viktor inquires, the sound of running water in the background. He mumbles something to another person in the room and Yuuri figures it must be Christophe. “ _Your young fan, yes? Isn’t that nice. Make sure to cheer for him, Yuuri._ ”  
  
Yuuri’s smile falters into an irritated frown for a moment before he mutters, “I will… I don’t need you to tell me that now, you know…”  
  
“ _Oh??"_ Viktor chirps. “ _Are you pouting? So cute, send me a picture, please. You haven’t sent me any and we’ve been apart eight days already_.”  
  
“We’ve been apart for five days, Viktor.” Yuuri corrects gently.  
  
“ _It feels like it’s been three years_ ,” Viktor grumbles in response. It sounds like he’s about to say something else when there’s a knock on the door, and a muffled but booming voice fills air.  
  
Viktor mumbles something in Russian to himself and sighs. “ _Okay, okay, I’ve got to go, moya lyubov, but I will skype you later tonight so I can see your beautiful face… since you won’t send me any pictures_.” There’s slightly louder banging in the background now. “ _OKAY, OKAY, YA NA MOYEM PUTI! Ugh, goodbye, my sweet love. No, but really, send me some pictures."_  
  
Yuuri has a split second to usher out a goodbye in return before there’s beep and then silence.  
  
It sounds like Viktor’s having fun after all.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------  
  
Once Minako-sensei has a fill of her shopping appetite and Mari emerges in a slightly more feminine yukata, they all reunite and spend the rest of the afternoon browsing and eating until it’s time for the opening ceremony of Japanese nationals.  
  
Despite having been calmed by his conversation with Viktor (even with very little answers to his unasked questions), Yuuri becomes immediately intimidated by the amount of traffic and people making their way into the Namihaya dome. Phichit pets his shoulder affectionately and shows him new videos of his hamsters back at home in an attempt to soothe him after they take their seats.  
  
When he turns around to look at the rows of excited spectators behind him, Yuuri feels like he can’t breathe. He jumps up and squeaks, “I’m going to the bathroom!” before ushering out of the coliseum.   
  
He hides in the men’s room and washes his face. It’s not even his night to perform and he’s already have a conniption.  
  
Once he thinks he’s somewhat pulled himself together, he exits and finds Phichit waiting outside for him patiently. “Sorry,” his friend says sheepishly. “I don’t mean to follow you around, but I just want to be here for you if you need me. And…. Oh, hey, isn’t that Minami?”  
  
Yuuri turns his deadened gaze to look over the form of a familiar dirty-blonde. Minami notices them, stills, shakes, trembles and turns red. He looks like he may combust.  
  
“YUURI-KUN!!” He squeals as he runs forward and grabs both of Yuuri’s hands, stars in his eyes. “YOU WERE AMAZING AT THE GRAND PRIX FINAL OH MY GOD.”  
  
Phichit steps back in awe and Yuuri has to lean back a little too. “M-minami-kun, th-thank you, but, uh… could you be a little quieter please…?”  
  
The entire hall of people are staring at them.  
  
Minami's gapes. “Oh, sorry.”  
  
They walk to a less crowded place to talk. Minami may still look young and innocently naïve, but something about him seems different. The look in his eye holds a whole new level of confidence Yuuri hasn’t seen there before. It even instills a bit of nerve back in Yuuri’s own troubled heart.  
  
“Good luck tonight, Minami-kun.” Yuuri wishes fondly. “I’ll be cheering for you.”  
  
“Me too,” Phichit pipes up next to them. “I’ll take lots of pictures, okay?”  
  
Minami's blush transforms into a scarlet hue and he looks like he may try to combust again, but stops and takes a deep breath. With determination, he faces both of them. “Thank you! I want to do my best here so that I may be able to face against both of you on ice one day!”  
  
Phichit whistles with an impressed look and Yuuri leans forward to ruffle Minami’s hair. The younger Japanese skater stares at him with wide eyes.  
  
“I look forward to it, Minami-kun." Yuuri utters softly.  
  
At the end of the night, Minami places fourth. He waves from Yuuri at the sideline afterward and Yuuri returns a thumbs-up.  
  
When he gets back to the hotel to take a shower, he stares at himself in the mirror and loses what bit of confidence he had gained after talking with Minami. The competition tonight had been no joke, and Yuuri’s so nervous now he realizes with a start he never watched Yurio’s performance. The idea almost makes him nauseous, and he can’t even bring himself to see where Yurio has placed in rank. Last he checked, Viktor had been in first.  
  
“I can conquer my dreams,” Yuuri whispers to himself in the mirror. “I am not a slave to my anxiety.”  
  
After some deep breathing exercises and self pep talks, Yuuri feels somewhat calm again.    
  
He's about to dry off and put some clothes on, but stops, grabs his phone and takes a picture.  
  
Phichit’s brushing his teeth and Celestino is reading a book in bed when Yuuri’s phone buzzes several minutes later.  
  
_holy hell yuri  
  
_ The drowsy skater dissolves into laughter and Celestino gives him an amused glance from the other bed. His phone buzzes again.  
  
_PLEASE SEND MORE  
  
_ During the night, after Phichit and Celestino are long asleep in bed, Yuuri does.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------  
  
After kicking Christophe out to go sleep in his own room for once, stating he needed some “alone time to think”, Viktor crawled in bed and browsed through all the photos Yuuri had sent him. In the afterglow of two red-hot orgasms, using pillow-Yuuri to muffle his moans, Viktor passed out.  
  
But not before he sent a few of his own. _  
  
_ Now, it’s afternoon in Yekaterinburg and Viktor has a theater set up in his hotel room, HDMI cable connecting his laptop to the large 55” TV to livestream Japanese Nationals. He’s got his black and blue velvet catsuit on proud display, perched in plastic on the bathroom door. He’s on his stomach, face as close to the TV as the bed will allow. Beneath him, pillow-Yuuri is pressed to his chest and belly with Makkachin Tissue Box on standby. He expects to cry.  
  
He’s fiddling with his phone at the moment, contemplating what to text Yuuri after his performance, when his attention is immediately caught by, “Next up, representing Saga prefecture, Kyushu: KATSUKI YUURI!”  
  
The camera spans to his beloved Yuuri, black hair slicked back and chocolate eyes bright. Even though he's seen Yuuri in his junior outfit many times, being away from him and knowing he's wearing Viktor's clothing instills a sense of uncontrollable lust in his belly. “Oh, my sexy Yuuri, how are you _so_ delectable when I’m not there?” Really, those pictures were hot, but they are nothing compared to the real thing.  
  
Back in the Osaka dome, Yuuri turns his attention to Celestino and Phichit. “Thank you both for coming here with me. Really, I appreciate it so much.”  
  
Phichit returns the sentiment with a sheepish chuckle and Celestino slaps a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Give it all you’ve got, Yuuri.”  
  
“I will,” the fragile skater responds softly. “I want to show you how much I’ve improved. I hope to make you proud.”  
  
Celestino gives his light-hearted laugh and then squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder.  
  
“You’ve already impressed me at the Cup of China and the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri. I have utmost confidence you’re going to be one step closer to winning gold tonight.”  
  
Yuuri blushes hard. Celestino has always been friendly and supportive, but to hear him say after all this time his old coach is proud of him in a similar dome to the one he failed him in the year before… it allows a floodgate of suppressed anxiety and guilt to finally be released. Until it was gone, Yuuri had no idea he was carrying that kind of heavy burden in his heart.  
  
He musters a real, authentic and confident smile. He turns, eyes narrowed, fists clenched, and steps forward to conquer the ice—  
  
But before he can, Phichit latches onto his arm and yanks him back. “WAIT, YUURI.”  
  
“W—what?” Yuuri breathes out, shocked and staggering back into the ringside. He turns to face Phichit with shocked confusion as his friend fumbles with his phone.  
  
“Before you go: selfie.”  
  
Yuuri bursts out into a jovial laugh and smiles, crinkling his eyes and grinning so wide his cute dimples are on display. Next to him, Phichit has one eye closed and is posing with V sign. With that, a snap and a click, Phichit lets him go. “Go get ‘em, Yuuri.”  
  
The announcer booms the details of Yuuri’s short program into the air while Yuuri skates off toward the middle of the rink. The music starts, and with a tilt of his head back and a smirk on his lips, Yuuri sways into action.  
  
In Russia, it’s tearing Viktor apart at the seams. No matter how many times he sees it, and no matter how many times he’s held Yuuri’s true eros in his arms at night, nothing had prepared him for the feeling of this intense longing. He watches as his love skates seductively, captivatingly, and Viktor realizes his eyes are dry because he’s forgotten to blink.  
  
At the end, arms wrapped around himself and panting hard, Yuuri notices the cheering of the crowd is so phenomenally loud it’s hard to hear the announcer.  
  
He sits by Celestino awaiting the results, Phichit by the side snapping photos. It’s so ridiculously loud he doesn’t even hear his score, just sees it flash above. He realizes the number next to his name is rank one.  
  
It takes him a second to understand what’s happening, but Celestino has wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a half-hug. He’s taken aback at first but then leans into it happily. “I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. This is what Viktor does though, right? Oh well, congrats Yuuri! It’s not over yet. We still have the free skate coming up, but I’m proud of you.”    
  
Yuuri laughs meekly into the awkward and friendly hug, but he’s more at peace than he’d ever imagined the week prior.  
  
In the hotel, Viktor is perched excitedly on the edge of the bed, legs folded under him like a dog waiting for a treat. He’s so excited to see Yuuri’s score he can hardly contain himself. When he realizes Yuuri is now ranked first, a complete and utter difference from his score the previous year, Viktor almost dies on the spot. Viktor is so proud he thinks he may cry after all.  
  
His Yuuri looks so stunned, happy, excited, so many emotions all at once. And then there’s an arm around his shoulder, tugging him into a hug and--- wait.  
  
“WHOA- _HO_ - _OA_ ,” Viktor cries, lurching forward in his anguished shock. His hands slip on the silky sheets and his arms buckle underneath his weight as he tumbles headfirst into the floor. He gives a pained whine, rolling to his back, eyes on the TV. Above him, his Japanese dove is smiling shyly into the camera.  
  
On the bed, his phone vibrates insistently and he fumbles an arm around to blindly feel for it. Once it’s in his hands, he notices it’s an update from Phichit on Instagram.  
  
He flips over to find the picture of Yuuri and Phichit together before the ice, apparently posted less than five minutes ago.  
  
phichit+chu  
❤ 156 likes  
Yuuri about to perform the short program! So sexy~  
#JapaneseGigolo #InternationalPlayboy #KillerKatsuki #JPNNationals  
  
Viktor has to Google the word gigolo and after a moment of peering into the screen, screeches “ _My beautiful swan is no such thing!!!"_  
  
He likes it anyway.  
  
Later, he doesn’t even have the heart to text Yuuri and tell him he’s now rank third in Russian nationals. As long as Yuuri is first, Viktor could come in last and he'd be happy.  
  
At least, that’s what he tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for the delay. I spent a lot of time trying to make the timeline make sense between the time zones and program days, and even then there are still probably some inaccuracies. Beyond that, I actually ended up having emergency surgery around two weeks ago. This is a long chapter and I tried to re-read through it for errors. I hope it is somewhat enjoyable. It is an honor to know there are people who enjoy this story even though it's getting ridiculous at this point, but I am having so much fun writing it. :)
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments, feedback, kudos and critique.
> 
> Edit: 3/13 
> 
> I haven't forgotten this fic, I promise. I've just been super busy but I have the entire next chapter outlined and some of it written I just haven't finished it or beta'd it. ;) I hope it'll be worth the wait...

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this even a little I would be greatly honored. Thank you for reading!


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